


Falling Up

by KalapenoPeppers



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: (someday...maybe), (yes Sans gets his own relationship tag), Angst, Bad Puns, Communication, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Female Reader, Flowey Is A Dick, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Frisk And Reader Are Related, Gaslighting, Gender-Neutral Frisk, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Love/Hate, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Relationships, Plot, Rating May Change, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader-Insert, Resets, Science, Selectively Mute Frisk, Slow Burn, Time Shenanigans, Timelines, slow pacing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2018-11-23 00:24:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 37,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11391516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KalapenoPeppers/pseuds/KalapenoPeppers
Summary: Life as a resident of the Underground. It starts with confusion and terror and doesn't get any better from there.There are a lot of different ways to cope with the problems stemming from this. Unfortunately you do not want to deal with any of them. Leave that, monsters and trials bundled with it, to saviors who can shoulder the heavy burden.You're determined to leave the Underground with your sibling. Nothing will stop you. Not the motherly goat mom. Not the tall spaghetti loving skeleton. Not even his pun filled brother, who seems oddly just as determined to get in your way. Maybe it wasn't your place to interfere in the first place but you refuse to idle. One way or another, you're leaving. Even if it kills you.Which it probably will.





	1. London Bridge

**Author's Note:**

> Kay so, this is the first time in years that ideas for a fanfic have gone past the brainstorming stage and I'm actually posting them. Gotta finally jump on that Sans/Reader fic bandwagon.
> 
> So uh don't be surprised if things are a little weird. The writing is a little rusty, this is the first time I'm doing a story on AO3 and I've never written in second person before. I got a rough idea of what I want to do but don't be fooled, I don't really know what I'm doing.
> 
> Still, I hope you guys like it. :)
> 
> Planning to update every Saturday.

 

 _"The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step"_  
— Lao Tzu

* * *

The old abandoned road hurtled down the arid mountainside, unraveling like a silk ribbon knocked from a teetering merchant cart. It looped wide, careening out to the perilous edge of dusty cliffs, then snagged on the crumbling rocks and folded in on itself, over and over, until it disappeared into the blanketing green forest far below. But the golden road continued to unwind beneath the leafy canopy. It trailed over hills, dipped into streams and swung around massive moss-covered trunks. Ancient trees arched overhead, intertwining their limbs. Their deep green shadows softened the gravelly edges of the old road.

By this time of year, dusty shoes of the occasional traveler should have stamped a path down the center. The forest birds and critters should have been chattering indignantly at the relentless shuffle and clang of the interlopers. But no people could be found in the suffocating spring heat. Even the animals seemed to be a memory. Save for a warm breeze rippling through the trees now and then, the air was heavy and soundless.

The unseasonable temperatures had driven all creatures away from the old road — all except you.

Hair flipping suddenly into your eyes, you crashed forward onto your knees. The moss-covered rocks were deceptively slippery, and you had lost count of how many falls you'd endured. Ignoring the burn searing up the outside of your legs, you rocked at the waist and pushed hard with your thighs to leverage yourself to standing. Grit pattered down onto the dry leaves as you stood, but some of it stayed embedded in your torn, oozing skin. It had been like this all afternoon.

You didn't know how much more of this you could take. But you had to press on for your sibling.

For Frisk.

Both of you and your family visited your father during the summer every year. In typical fashion, you and your siblings would spend a couple days of “one on one” time with him camping somewhere along the base of the mountain. Besides you and your brother silently despairing at the lack of available internet connectivity, it wasn’t so bad. Fresh, unpolluted air. Wildlife that wasn’t the normal squirrels or birds you caught sight of on your fence. Fishing, taking hikes, enjoying nature and the like had its moments.

But Frisk always was the adventurous type. They’d been clamoring to travel further up the mountainside all year. The reason was lost to you, but the past week had seen the desire reignite with fervent passion.

Phone in hand, arms akimbo, you’d woken up in your tent to an empty sleeping bag. A trail of small footsteps lead straight out of the clearing, deeper into the forest. Seeing as you were up a little while ago, it couldn’t have been more than half an hour since they left. Half asleep with worry tickling your mind, you’d grabbed your bag, slung it onto your back and set out after them. They couldn’t have been too far ahead. Their stringy 8 year old legs only held so much strength carry them so far.

That was your first mistake. Underestimating a kid as determined as Frisk. The hope you might catch up to them before long dwindled as the hours dragged on, yet you’d stuck to the prints weaving through the trees with an uncanny determination of your own.

With a sigh, you shook the last wisps of hair from you face and gingerly began again.

You trekked in silence over the rolling woodlands, until the canopy of leaves grew quite dense and the undergrowth fell away completely. The landscape looked like an ancient forest, all twisted roots and unyielding rocks. And though you had a hunch, there were no tangible clues as to where Frisk was heading. You had frustratingly lost all sense of direction in the diffuse light.

Around you, grey tree trunks shot up like pillars from the ground. A low knocking sound filtered through the dim woods. It was undefinable, and seemed to come from everywhere at once, weaving in and out of the trees. Leaves crunched under foot, and your knapsack only snagged in the clutches of the branches grasping at your shoulders and face. You wiggled said bag on your back, trying to shift some of the fabric and stave off the numbness that was slowly setting in.

You traveled on.

You had wondered of ever finding the source of the odd thumps when finally, hiking out of a root-lined trench, a sudden, dull roar filled the space in front of you. Your path had led you to deep, moss-lined stream. A narrowing channel combined with a few large stones sunk in the bed forced the water to eddy and swirl loudly. It'd been the occasional sound of rushing waters that drifted through the trees.

The forest fell into dusky silence as you stopped for a short break, the light of day waning. Cool air caressed your heated skin. You peered through a gap in the canopy. A thick white cloud had just crested the ridge, and it looked as if it was snagged on the mountain itself.

Your family must be wondering where the hell you both were by now. The cell phone option of calling for help was a dud, the signal cutting out sometime ago. You think it had to do with the mountain. Magnetic interference was a thing.

The seemingly random Frisk trail soon found you walking alongside the break in the monotonous landscape, against the flow of the current. The creek cut deeply through grey rocks, and it often disappeared completely under the shadow of its banks. Only the occasional flash of white froth along the edge delineated water from stone. But it's hollow, lonely sound stayed with you constantly now.

The terrain rose steadily as you hiked. Dark blue seeped over the sky, evening painting the steep woodland in blues and blacks, and even the first bright stars could be seen through peeking through the treetops to glint at you.

Your path beside the stream finally terminated at a steep, rocky waterfall. That sound was unmistakable, the roar of splashing water nearly deafening by the time you were upon it. You deviated, the trail insisting you walk alongside a path hugging the cliff. Frisk was getting an earful for putting you through this self inflicted torture.

More obstacles popped up in your path. Steep inclines and the wobbling slabs that forced you to clamber over them, some of which threatened to break free at any moment under your weight. What was treacherous by day had become terrifying in the coming darkness of night. Enough starlight filtered down through the chinks in the leafy canopy to let you make out shapes, but not much else.

Your boot slipped yet again. Weary arms and fingers jolted at the sudden weight on them. Involuntarily, you released your grip on the mossy rock you were climbing over to crash back down onto one leg, blew out a low breath. Not nearly as hurt as you were from your previous blunders, you were still tired of the unsteady terrain.

"I'm sick of falling," you muttered, slowly standing back up. "If I never slip again, it’ll be too soon."

Finally, daylight a distant memory, you straddled a particularly large block then slid down the exposed flat side. You stood still, distrustful of this new, apparently stable ground after the never ending uphill climb. Your gaze moved in the direction of a gray ribbon of dirt that ran down between the large boulders, strands of green stubbornly peeking through.

You took a few tentative steps forward, trying to make out just where you stepped in the murky darkness. You looked down at your feet, crunching the dusty gravel, and followed the path ahead until the end of your visibility. The 'gray ribbon' revealed itself to be a narrow footpath, patches of gray splattering it here and there. It wound around some of the crumbling stones and down towards a dark hulking structure.

You squinted for a closer look. It took a moment to recognize the cavern entrance for what it was. The whole wall of the cliff side had fallen away. Stalactites jutted out from the roof like oversized fangs set in a yawning maw, exposed to all the elements as it jealously shielded its insides.

You tiredly looked down the slope and tried to collect your thoughts, wondering how much further this could last. Where could Frisk have gone? Was it possible for them to make it up here all on their own? Either way it was too late to turn back now. You had to keep going. There was no other choice.

Taking a breath, you began slowly moving down the walkway.

You didn't quite clear a moss-covered spot as you stepped, sending you stumbling forth again. Surprise fluttered across your mind as the gravel underneath you gave away. You skidded hard on both knees to stop yourself from tumbling any further head-first. Crying out, you hunched your shoulders and tried to smother the pain. A few deep breaths later, you struggled up, bits of dirt sticking to the fresh scrapes at your hands. Then you laid your eyes on what must be certain death.

"Oh man," was all you managed to croak out, mouth dry from panic.

There’s no way you could have seen the sharply-angled edges from the outside, the surface crawling with age old thick vines and layered with dust, nor the ground falling away beneath it to reveal the gaping chasm threatening to swallow you whole. There was no room for error here. And you hadn’t known any of this until it was nearly too late.

Quickly, you skittered backwards. Fear locked up your limbs, shoulders trembling.

A morbid part of you wanted to check, innate curiosity welling up and urging you to peek into the unknown. The larger, rational part firmly squashed the notion. Actions like that only begged fate to shove you in and you weren’t about to risk it. Stare into the abyss and it stares back and all that.

Besides, you instinctively knew there was no coming back from a fall into that.

God, what if Frisk… After all, old tales spoke of people being lost to Mt. Ebott forever. Maybe this is where they ended up. It did look as if hell itself opened to steal the souls of passersby.

…No. You couldn’t accept that.

Your sibling wouldn’t be stupid enough to come near something obviously so dangerous. Their trail had to lead elsewhere.

You spun, intent on booking it out of there as well. With your track record during the day thus far it shouldn’t have been as big of a shock when a root caught your foot.

And the world went out from underneath you.

Hurled forward into unyielding earth, the balance of the world shifted. Gravity seemed to almost be sucking you down the slope towards the hole, towards the beating darkness of the pit. It was more than willing to obey nature and pitch your form in.

Your mind went ballistic – _no, no, NO!_ – finding Frisk wasn’t supposed to end up like this.

_You didn’t want to die!_

Desperately, you reached out for grab hold of anything. Your mind already folded in defeat before the futile gesture had even been made, fingers curling around empty space. With that you slid off the edge, pitch black rushing up to meet you.

For a second, there was nothing.

The queasy, weightless feeling in your stomach and limbs viciously took hold, as if you were on a mere rollercoaster ride instead of plummeting to your demise. Then it began to burn. The sensation of pins, needles and warmth blossomed out, down from the crown of your head to the centre of your forehead, to your throat, then branched out from there to the rest of your body. It was an almost pleasant sensation—until it hit the end of it's path, the tips of your toes.

It was as if a switch had been flipped.

The world around you exploded in feeling. There were things and sensations and noises around you, an overload of stuff, of static, of heat. Your fingers curled into tight fists, as if to help brace against the onslaught. Hot tears stung in the corners of your eyes, mouth opening in a silent scream as your entire body seized up in panic.

What the hell?

What the _hell?_

Everything was moving so fast. All of it burned. Your skin, eyes, mind, heart. So much, so fast. Colours and… and _that stuff, what is that stuff?_

Your gaze jerked forward, landing on the shrinking opening above, the ringing in your ears drowning the rest of the world out. The sky – the stars – were there, but a surge of yellow sat like a thin film over the visage, pulsing and ebbing away.

The edges of your vision began to grey.

‘It… it hurts,’ The lone comprehensible thought in your mind.

Amid the chaos of everything, you could feel the shift in the world around you. Spots danced over your vision. The grey curled in, eating away more of your sight with each second that ticked by.

The last thing you saw was the twinkling of the stars before everything faded to black.

* * *

It was so cold.

When you opened your eyes, they couldn't see anything at all. The sky was utterly black, or was it even the sky? It was vast, stretching out as far as you could see across a space you couldn't imagine. That was what you'd been faced with. Lungs sought for air, only to find the dull sensation of suffocation, mixed in with the sensation of your skin and blood slowly freezing.

This place was just... empty.

Turning your head from side to side, you stiffly looked for any sign of anything. This was what you always imagined the vacuum of space to be like, only there were no stars. Not only were there no stars, there were no galaxies. It was a dead zone. A living nightmare. Time seemed to stretch on forever.

Then it came.

Something that could be best described as light. It was distant, it was so far away and shrinking into the distance, but it was radiant. Ice floated all through the void, and gas clouds you hadn't even realized had been there, lit up all across the void.

You thought it was a delusion at first. For all your time in the complete darkness, for all that time in the void without sound or light, you saw a whole world come alive in the glow of purple. The entirety of the realm seemed to go from dead, to alive, brimming with motion and swirling in chaos. It was as if your breath had been stolen from you.

Was it the entrance to this place?

No.

It wasn't, it was something entirely different. The fading light felt familiar, it felt like something you wished you could reach out and touch. Inside of it you could sense... life? It felt like everything you'd left behind in your life was back there. Your siblings, your mom, your friends, and everyone else. More than that, it was familiar in a much deeper sense... it was like it was everything you'd ever known, and it was slipping away from you. Panic washed over you as you willed your arms to move towards it, trying to grasp at the light as it fell further and further away.

What was all of this? Where were you?

_"You're where you are meant to be."_

A voice went through your mind as you tumbled helplessly through the void, trying to find meaning in all of this, trying to find out where you were, or why you were sensing this oppressive despair when you looked towards the fading light in the distance. Even with the voice in your head, you suddenly felt very alone. You felt more alone than you ever did. Memories of your life thus far felt somehow long gone, into the distant past.

_“But don't be afraid. Think of this as a lesson to remember.”_

That voice was familiar, striking a chord deep within you despite never hearing before. Your hands slowly began to lose their feeling.

The cold, now seemed so much more alive, so much more real. It wasn't going to be much longer, vision, dream, or whatever this was. Shutting your eyes, you just tried to think of how to respond, to question, before it ended.

_"Stay determined."_


	2. Light 'Em Up

_“There is no death, only a change of worlds.”_  
– Native American Proverb

* * *

The world passed in and out of existence for you.

Grey mist covered everything. The air had a pungent tang of wet earth, save for a faint thread of smoke wafting from some unseen fire. But that was as far as you got. You couldn't fight off the grogginess long enough to identify anything else. Your thoughts slurred together, and you drifted back into thick sleep.

One moment you would feel a gentle wind brushing against you, the next you'd find it bitterly cold. It was hard to concentrate on anything, except that you felt so weak. Even the air felt like it was overwhelming around you, and the pull of the earth made it feel like someone was tearing your arms down towards the ground. Everywhere was so heavy. Everything was so bright.

What felt like hours later, a shooting pain in your side drove you out of blissful nothing again.

The first thought you had upon waking up was that you'd never felt so horrendously shit in your lifetime.

A layer of sweat and dirt covered your skin, tangled strands of hair clinging uncomfortably to your forehead and neck. The minor scratches dotted around your face felt itchy, tight, hot, whereas the rest of your body couldn't seem to decide whether you were roasting alive or freezing to death. Your nose felt stuffy, throat tight as though something had been lodged in it, and your shoulder, oh god, your shoulder–

You bit back a pathetic whimper, half because you didn't like the idea of vocalizing your own pain particularly and half because you didn't know where you were and who would hear it.

Forcing your way through the haze of sleep clinging to your mind, you tried to concentrate on the world around you. Moist earth clung to your cheek. Something soft, almost silk like, tickled your senses. Initially, it was a reassuring sensation, then decidedly not when the realization an unknown thing was against your face hit. You tried to snap open your eyes but found them crusted together. Struggling for a moment longer, you blinked into the darkness.

Yellow danced in your peripherals.

You don’t remember falling asleep among flowers.

Pain cut sharply as you struggled into a sitting position. Instantly the world swirled on you and you fell forward, dry heaving. Several minutes later, you closed your eyes, breathing hard. You mentally picked through what you recalled of the previous day. You were with your family, followed Frisk…but the rest were incoherent fragments. You worked over it all again.

The cave. The hole.

You squeezed your eyes against the snapshot memories and blew out a long, low breath, trying to quell your panic.

A few languid streams of light filtered down through the hole far above you, the only light accompanying you in the dark cavern. It was probably day time, the idea bringing up an array of internal reactions. You spent the day trekking through the forest and when you fell it was during the middle of the night. Considering how crap you still felt too, you couldn't have been out for that long, so it must be noon at the latest.

You couldn’t stay here but it took so much effort – to think, then to act, like every decision was suddenly an insurmountable task with the agony blazing along your left ribcage. The arm and shoulder practically screamed in pain. Definitely broken. Your hand frightened you the most. You couldn't even feel it any longer.

It might as well have not been there.

Goddammit. You tried to cap the swiftly growing panic. Having your nerves shot to hell was the last thing you needed right now. Maybe you could wait this out. People were bound to be out and about looking you and Frisk now, right?

…

**_Right?_ **

Doubt slithered into your mind. Fear and paranoia made its nest there once more.

You took in all the flowers, stems flecked and petals dyed a stark crimson from the river of red your fall instigated. That much meant anywhere from a third and up of your blood volume slipped free. Even now blood pulsed at a sluggish rate out of a few of the angry inflamed cuts lining your arms and legs, yellow white liquid and grass crusted around the swelled edges of pulsating flesh.

A glance up revealed the sheer drop from the precipice that brought you here. The crags of rock formations jutted from the walls, earthen fingers reaching in a bid for the sky as futile as yours had been. A bitter, arid laugh scratched your throat.

Damn it. _Damn it._

There’s no way you survived _that_. From how you tripped in your body would’ve acted on rag doll physics and collided with one part of the cliff at minimum. You’d have died from the pain and shock induced from the blunt force trauma. You’re glad that, aside from the burst of colors, heat, and feeling like you fell through the world’s thinnest gelatin, you don’t recall the up and close experience or the possible impact of your skull being split open. If you survived going splat against the rocky terrain somehow, then blood loss stole your life. _Even then_ telltale infection would have set in and subjected you to any number of illness for a slow and painful untimely demise.

Arguing against that unholy trinity of certain death was pointless.

You were _dead_. Dead and this impossible bed of flowers was your grave. The search party would find a collection of gore, pulverized organs, and splintered bones snapped like a twig at the bottom of this fissure in the earth. Or one day, spelunkers or archaeologists would find the remains of your broken corpse, claimed by the grassy knots of the flowerbed and the dust of the earth.

Still, you never imagined so much pain after death. Maybe purgatory was a real thing and you were a grieving soul unable to accept death. Maybe now you were experiencing one of those fan conspiracy theories where the video game character died during their adventure and remainder of the game was their last moments in a fever dream before they passed away. Maybe, by the grace of a miracle, you lived. You clung to the feverish hope that against all odds you were alive.

Unfortunately, that meant no waiting. A search party couldn’t do anything. They hadn’t found you in the half or so day you spent down here and there might be no way of locating you in time.

So, if you didn't do something, you would die.

It was a simple realization. There was no one left to rely on but yourself. If you put your fate in the hands of help that might never come, the outcome would almost certainly be death. Putting your fate into your own hands, however…

Probably death still. Probably a more painful one at that. But maybe, just maybe, you'd make it. Find a way of out the mountain. Keep going.

You didn't want to do it. You wanted to sit right in this same spot no matter how many logical arguments there were against it. You wanted to do anything other than delve deeper into the darkness of the cavern. However, death was death and it didn't matter whether you got there by accepting or fighting against it.

Do it.

Decision made, although with the bitter taste of blood and reappearing fear in your mouth, you struggled to your feet and staved off vertigo. Your bag, if anything in it survived, had to be left behind inside a crevice in the ashen walls. Pain shot across your nerves as you forced your swaying body to lean against a wall, but you discovered death was a great motivator as you stumbled forward.

You weren't having a very good day. Your sibling went missing, you fell into a mountain, and you died. Or if you haven't you're about to. Yet somehow, it looks like it's going to keep going downhill from here.

“Stay _determined_ ,” you muttered, a sarcastic, unbelieving bite to your tone.

The next cavern was little more than dark walls and a patch of grass, illuminated by an unseen crack in the mountain acting as a skylight. In the middle of the grass, a small mound rose from the ground, broken pieces of sticks scattered around it. A light breeze gusted through, but it never completely died down.

Nothing noteworthy.

You had thought it was because you were tired, but the rocks around you seemed to be increasing in size. Large round boulders were replacing the smaller crumbling ones. Some were grey and half buried under centuries of moss, while others still retained their yellow and brown striations, with very little debris. And a few had unusually sharp angles to them, as if hewed from the mountain itself.

It’s the door fading out of the darkness at the end of the hall that stalled your endeavour. You weren’t an expert on geology or an architect, but something like an ancient temple door inside the rumored Mt. Ebott wasn’t natural. Someone carved that.

Perhaps they were still around.

…Did you just fall into the equivalent of a horror movie? Were you about to discover a gaggle of cannibalistic, inbred psychos taking up residence inside the mountain?

Maybe you should have taken the slow painful death amongst the flowers. At least there was something poetic about that.

Ducking through the doorway, you walked carefully across the old flat stones that emptied out into the large area for a better look at your surroundings.

The walls, the floor, everything lining the brick room was the same shade of vibrant purple. Piles of autumn leaves were scattered about despite the lack of trees. The ground itself was akin to purple grass - but the way your shoes crunched against the plant seemed to signal it wasn't any living type you saw on the surface. Like artificial turf but softer. 

Stepping on equally crunchy leaves, you followed the path up twin sets of lavender staircases winding up to a large dusty terrace. Stopping in front of another doorway with a sign hung above it, the next room barely visible.

You walked through it down the worn path through a similarly coloured room, an unknown light source keeping it lit. You ignored the several stone switches and golden lever to the left, going straight through the opened stone door.

The scent of fresh water hit you hard. You gasped, the sound grating your dry throat as you spotted the crystal clear liquid flowing through the long hallway, bridges built over it for crossing.

Other things such as the convenient path was worn away in the slightly livelier grass, the ivy vines hung from the purple, brick walls and a picketed sign was struck in the ground in front of you were noted, but none of it mattered.

You hobbled as fast as your arm and injuries would allow and fell to your knees beside the water. You dunked your cupped hand in and raised into your mouth, inhaling the precious liquid. Thirst quenched and feeling somewhat bloated, you set to cleaning out your wounds before continuing. The water wouldn’t help much but cuts not crusted with dirt, grass, and blood was better than nothing.

The slow route brought you through halls of the same purple bricks. No small rivers ran through them, but it did curve to the left then the right. The pathway then had an odd twisting and turning shape, which you guessed it all meant you weren't just walking in circles.

More vines etched up the bricks and tiny golden flowers peeked out of the ground, occasionally breaking up the constant barrage of violet with the contrasting green and yellow. The only thing noticeable in one of rooms, small and curved, was a weirdly shaped burlap dummy you spared only a glance at.

Until you came to the rows upon rows of deadly spikes shooting up from the ground with a menacing gleam.

Taken aback, you didn't notice the sleeping... frog thing in the middle of the path until it was too late. You tripped over your own feet in an effort to right your aborted motion of squishing the poor toad underfoot. You landed on your face, the jostling of your arm tearing a shocked yelp free. From the corner of your eye, the frog picked itself back up. It didn’t look as if it knew why it's here.

It's neck puffed out as it hopped closer, the frog's body slamming onto the ground as it got closer. It was much bigger than any frog you ever saw before, at least the length of your arm with a strange insignia on it's chest. Between its two front feet, some small creature with a rounded mouth excessively blinked its eyes at you.

But somehow, in that moment, it was like you found a kindred soul. You felt life was as difficult for the frog as it was for you right now.

“Hey, uh,” you started, slowly sitting up. With a sharp intake of air, your eyes squeezed shut. “This is going to sound weird and all, you being a frog and me for talking to you in the first place, but is there anyone around who could help me?” You pointed at your arm, wincing as you shifted.

The frog didn't quite look like it understood, staring for a long moment - but from what you could tell, it wouldn’t attack. Geez, this was stupid. A mutant mountain frog couldn’t speak. The spikes lining the bridge held much more frightening implications about what resided in these caverns. A shiver of fear rolled through your body, and you carefully cracked open one eye.

The frog hopped past, ribbiting softly at you. Only when it jumped into the spikes, you saw the ones it passed over had shrunk down and vanished into the ground.

What the hell?

Another ribbit drew your gaze back to the frog. It hopped forward, then back, then jumped in one spot. It repeated this several times, all of its eyes locked on you. It wanted you to follow it?

Heaving yourself back up, you hesitantly stepped onto the steel plates. Maybe it was on a timer, or perhaps they would jolt up if you didn't put enough pressure on them. You could still see the spikes, pointed edges glinting from the shadows, hiding inside the ground like some sort of spider ready to skewer you.

You flinched at the thought.

The frog jumped ahead and after a brief pause you followed, the spikes behind you shot back up once you moved to the next segment of the bridge. You gripped your arm and clenched your teeth as you walked in some sort of twisted shape. You were all too glad to be back onto solid ground once you were off the trap tiles.

You trudged after the frog down the long hall. The end could just barely be seen, and the path hurtling towards the other side of the room swerved back and forth. It was clearly bringing you somewhere, waiting patiently during moments you needed to take a breather. Maybe it had some sentience.

The idea may have bothered some but you were willingly to suspend your disbelief. As long as you got help, you’d have all the time in the world to properly absorb and panic about everything thus far.

You shifted your grip on your arm, breathing in the cool air and ignoring the chill. You kept feeling this pressure on your body, as if the weight of the earth itself rested on your shoulders. You then remembered you had fallen thousands of feet underground. The closer to the earth you were, the more pressure was put on your body.

The dried scent of oak and mustard seed coated the new room in it's smell, it was nearly overwhelming. More vines and piles of those leaves gathered on opposite sides of the zig zagging path disappearing around the turn at the far end of the room. You also spotted two creatures, another frog and the other a strange flying bug in the center of the hallway.

But your frog went down a side path into seemingly dead end area. Two small puddles bubbled quietly on each side of the room. An ivory pedestal stuck in the center seemed to grow from the very earth itself, a large bowl filled with wrapped candy drops. Purple and red, like the rest of this strange place. At least the aesthetics were consistent.

Hunger nipped at your stomach.

You quickly picked one of the variously patterned candy from the top of the pile and maneuvered it open one handed. In your bid for survival, it had been easy to forget you hadn’t eaten breakfast before following Frisk up the mountain and– Well, no one ever expects to fall into a hole and potentially never see the surface again. You popped it in your mouth, unwilling to start sinking into those topics.

At first, the candy was rather nice, if a little chewy. The fruity, licorice flavour burst to life in your mouth, blending with the sweet butterscotch dancing across the taste buds. Your tense muscles relaxed as you slouched over slightly, aches abated and throat less constricted. The pain still ebbed, but it felt more like you accidentally hit something hard rather then fell a great distance. The warm feeling slowly subsided, leaving you to gap at the empty wrapper crinkled in your palm.

“What kind of drug is this?” you pondered aloud.

Then it hit.

Your expression scrunched up, the butterscotch licorice flavour melted into an aftertaste distinctly…non licorice. It felt a touch odd going down your throat, like caramel but thick and slimy. A shudder ran down your spine as you forced yourself to swallow the rest. Whatever it was, it helped in the end.

You resisted pocketing one more for the road after reading a small note saying 'take only one', and met the frog’s almost smug stare. “Thanks Kermit.”

Yes, that’s what you’re calling it. All it needed now was a glass of Lipton tea.

Your companion croaked, seemingly satisfied, and hopped ahead.

Kermit lead you through purple corridors and leaves relatively without incident, the process much easier now that you didn’t take an eternity as a severe cripple. Puzzles and traps littered the labyrinth, mostly solved or disabled. You counted your blessings, there was no way you could’ve completed any in your condition.

More little critters meandered up to you, gnashing teeth, fluttering wings, and gelatinous forms. A couple approached hostile, but you and Kermit managed to talk/croak things out before any situation could escalate into an attack.

Soon, you found yourself exhausted, pain beginning to set in again as you overlooked the skyline to an entire city in all of it's glory. Bleached building after building, eerily silent rows of streets devoid of life. Parts of the city were crumbling into the streets and overgrown with vegetation, while others fell on top of each other. Abandoned ruins stretching farther than you could see. It must have been magnificent in it's ancient days.

You swept your gaze over the terrace you stood. It was built for viewing, a staircase to the right leading down. You doubted any help lingered in the buildings below.

Something shiny, tucked away in the corner of the platform, caught your eye.

A knife.

You walked closer, reaching down to feel the hilt of the weapon between your fingers. Your stare roved over the blade, finger tracing an absent trail across the dull edge.

This knife... It was just a toy. What good could plastic do against anything? It was a distraction at best that could be used to flee.

A judging stare pierced your back. You turned to face the silent frog.

“Oh come on! Don’t give me that look! Kermit, I couldn’t even cut my way out of a plastic bag with this.” To prove a point, you rested the blade against your leg and tried to nick a small cut. The worst it did was leave a slight abrasion in it’s wake, hardly noticeable against your skin. “See? Nothing to worry about.” You felt too beat to be swinging around a knife anyway.

The frog almost seemed to scoffed, before hopping the way you came. You rolled your eyes, running a thumb across the hilt as you dutifully followed Kermit’s lead to a new place. He hadn’t failed you yet.

Leaves were in utter disarray like many previous rooms, red strewn across the purple grass. The heavy scent of smoke and oak filled your nose. Your feet crunched against the leaves as you stopped next to the large, charred tree. It looked dead, bark completely black, twisted without a trace of normal brown on it, gnarled roots clawing free of the earth below... unless that’s what passed as trees down here.

All thoughts deserted you upon seeing the house. It was a quaint little number at the end of the long room, drifts of more leaves in front of it. You could hear noise inside, see two human figures through the darkness of the tinted windows.

Your breath hitched in your throat and you staggered to the front door. The hand clutching the knife laid three solid knocks on the wooden door with the hilt. You looked like a right mess, haggard and cut up, but hoping for the best was all you had now. You raised a hand to knock again.

The door swung open.

Again, like with Kermit, you aborted the action mid motion out of fear of accidentally harming someone.

It went worse than you possibly could have expected.

The beast could only be described as some sort of tall anthropomorphic cross between a goat and a human. Pristine white fur adorned its body, long muzzle opened in shock, widened burgundy eyes. Long royal purple robes draped its form, a strange insignia not unlike Kermit’s emblazoned on the front in white.

Partially shielded behind them, facing away, a short figure sat on the floor with their back to the door. Clad in blue and purple, a book occupied their hands. Time almost seemed to slow as their head began to crane around, mousse hair shifting with the movement.

You already knew.

Your heart sung.

_Frisk._

You tasted sweet victory in your mouth, and then bitter, bitter reality.

_You have never fucked up so much in your life._

It spanned a split second. The creature’s fearful gaze trained on the knife then flicked up to your face. Opening its hand, white fire blazed to life and engulfed its palm, magnificent red speckled flames twisting between its fingers and arm swinging in one clean movement.

And fast. So fast you couldn't even follow the fireball with your eyes as it headed directly towards you - _too fast, holy shit, you didn't think it'd be able to throw it so quickly, it's going to-_

It exploded right in your face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit later than I'd have liked but here it is. I only had time to read it through twice, but Kingdom Hearts 3 is _real_ so that's sucking up my attention at the moment.
> 
> Considering posting shorter chapters than Serendipity but twice a week instead.


	3. Suspend the Disbelief

_“It is the absence of facts that frightens people: the gap you open, into which they pour their fears, fantasies, desires.”  
_ ― Hilary Mantel, Wolf Hall

* * *

Your eyes blinked open to a spinning world of aching bones and sore muscles. Somehow through the confusion accompanying that pain, you faintly registered the faded orange ceiling looming above you and the firm surface beneath your body. Warm sheets were draped over you. Confused, you rubbed at your eyes with one hand. Four orange walls greeted you.

You then remained motionless for a long moment, wondering what stupid activity you partook in to earn such a horrible headache and stiff joints.

Until you noticed the room lacked windows, dusty toys shoved into a corner, and realize you didn’t recognize this place.

You survived only to wake up in an unknown location, not the familiar mattress of home nor the uncomfortable embrace of a bed of flowers.

“A… bedroom.” The only plausible explanation, even if it didn’t make sense. The discovery served to elevate the confusion making a wreck of your coherent thoughts.

You had hoped falling into a mountain hole was nothing but one of the more vivid nightmares you’d dreamt of, but fate was cruel enough to keep it as your reality.

Now how’d you get here?

No memory of the explosion’s aftermath rose to the forefront of your mind, leaving you to scramble for the ‘why’ to answer the conundrum. Kermit and your things were nowhere in sight. Should you panic at the fact you hadn’t the faintest notion of where you were now, or be relieved you woke up at all?

Ultimately, relief won out. Aided by the tendrils of sleep clinging to you, it wanted to pretend there wasn't pressing a reason to jump to your feet yet.

You eased yourself onto the side of your good shoulder, ignoring the groaning of the muscles pulling on the injured one. The strained motion made you aware of the makeshift sling someone had fashioned for you and, beyond that, the foreign clothing on your body.

Your gaze fell to yourself, taking in the pale green and yellow, flimsy striped shirt in place of your tattered bloodstained rags. Bandages lined your torso and both arms from to your wrist. A touch to your face revealed the same there, white tightly wound around your forehead and stuck to your cheek.

Puzzled, you laid there. At least you weren’t dead. Yet. Or this was the weirdest death dream ever conceived and you were in the middle of the first stage of grief.

Some part of you was glad your demise had delayed either way.

Although, when Frisk’s name and the image of  _that thing that blew you up_  flickered across your mind, that same part got much, much smaller.

You choked on a breath as you sat up, pain rippling down your shoulder and arm once more. Awkwardly struggling to your feet, you shuffled towards the lone entrance of the room with barely restrained urgency. You slipped outside into the hall and breathed in the warm air. The sharp smell of bonfire assaulted your sense of smell.

Moving down the hall into a new room, your eyes found the fire crackling away on the hearth and consequently the goat beast seated in the large armchair with Frisk on their lap. It wore  _reading glasses_  of all things. Both having heard the creaking of old floorboards, they looked up from the book clutched between the goat’s paws. Upon closer inspection, the paws were more akin to human hands.

_Fuck._

You flinched, instinct kicking in at the sight of a potential enemy before common sense could override it and the jerk of your arm forcing you to bite down another wince. Fingers twitched to grasp anything for defense.

If you…a hit to the neck…or if you found a weapon…grab Frisk and run…

You killed the thought borne from desperation and fear that must have wormed its way into your brain long ago to exist in a state where you should have been too tired to feel such intense emotions. The walls now seemed suffocating, trapping you inside with thoughts you didn't want to be having, shouldn't be having.

You half stumbled a few steps back, all too aware of their eyes closely watching your every movement. A foul, bitter taste rose up into your mouth and you squeezed your eyes shut for a few moments, concentrating on your breathing.

There were so many things wrong with the idea you didn't know where to start tearing it down, shoving it away violently. God, the fact you'd even considered it in that split second was enough to make you feel nauseous. It was the fear that was whispering, not what you truly believed, and, most likely, you wouldn't succumb to committing the act it wanted, but you suddenly didn't trust yourself. You were thankful that knife had been put elsewhere.

Frisk’s eyes had widened fractionally at the flicker of pain that must've been obvious across your face. The fear melted quickly enough once it was clear you weren't about to keel over, worry creasing their brows as they slid off the goat’s lap and ran to you.

 _“You’re finally awake!_ _I was starting to think you’d never wake up!”_ The warmth of their hand clutching yours helped ground you, dulled the adrenaline rushing through your veins.

“Thank god you’re safe.” You muttered in a croaky voice, wary eyes never straying from the tall goat for more than few seconds. “And here I was telling myself that my smart sibling wouldn’t do something as stupid as wander near a giant crack in the earth. Apparently I was wrong.”

At least they had the decency to look sheepish as they regarded the arm in your sling.  _"Toriel said you shouldn't be moving because you still need to get better."_

"Probably not," You ended up agreeing, wanting to shrug but deciding it was definitely a bad idea. You wiggled your fingers as a test, noting how they ached but at a bearable level of pain. “I think I earned ‘Sister of the Year’ for finding you at all. So, uh, who’s your new… friend?”

At the clear agitation lacing your voice, Frisk lightly pulled on your hand to draw your attention then pointed at the goat.  _“This is Toriel. She helped heal you.”_

She?

Well, since  _she_  was here you might as well clear up things on your end.

“I was only using the toy knife to knock on the door.” You timidly spoke up. You didn’t want her determining you were a violent risk and permanently detaining you. Not to mention it would lift one of the many worries plaguing your mind. “I wasn’t trying to attack you.“

Toriel wore a guilt ridden expression the entire time as she set down the book. You weren’t sure what you expected, but it wasn’t the light, concerned voice with a mother like ring to it. “My child,” she started gently, as if trying not to scare you more than she already had. “It was not my intention to harm a relative of Frisk either. I apologize for… hurting you earlier. I understand it must have been quite the fright after falling down and I only added to it.”

Frisk tugged you closer, your gait closer to a stumble as you awkwardly tried to not dig in your feet. Talking from a relatively safe distance was much different than standing right in front of her.

Toriel stood and it made the height difference that much more obvious, her figure towering over your shorter stature as you craned your neck back to see her face. The wide margin wasn’t even funny. You didn’t even come up to her shoulders. “Please, sit down and rest.”

She gently nudged you into her armchair. Frisk quickly followed and wriggled into the remaining space beside you. There was a small wave of relief that accompanied the warmth of the fire beside you. You shifted in place, slipping and ending up wedged between plush cushions and the firm padding of the chair as you practically sunk into it.

Above you, a light smile touched her muzzle as she watched the two of you. “Oh, I have not even introduced myself yet. It has been so long since a human has come by here. I am Toriel, caretaker of the Ruins.”

“Ruins?” you parroted.

Ruins implied people really did survive and live down here. Long enough for the bleached city you caught sight of to fall into such a state of disrepair. Still did, as evidenced by Toriel.

Eyes fell to the ground in thought, a hand brought to your chin. “I don’t really understand. Is that where we are?”

“You are now in the Underground, my child.” She said.

You had never heard of a place like that before. If Frisk weren’t here, you’d wonder if you actually fell into Hell instead.

Then again, you’ve never heard of a race of goat people. But Toriel had referred to you and Frisk as human. Your mind began veering into fantastical territory. Toriel had humanoid features so perhaps humans trapped down here evolved to the point of gaining goat features and they identified themselves as an entirely separate species.

The mystery of the peculiar wonder literally staring you in the face fought for the dominant presence in you mind, attempting to oust out the other equally important question: How no one realized people were in the mountain.

No one could simply get away with that these days. Not with technology advanced as it was. With people claiming the government kept tabs on them through surveillance set up in their microwaves this was a rather large discovery to simply pass over or cover up for so long.

“We monsters have lived here for a millennia." Toriel continued.

What?

“Though from what I understand, the knowledge of both us and magic have been lost to the humans for quite a while now.”

What??

You blinked up at her with wide eyes, parsing the words in your mind. “Monsters? What do you mean by…that?” You’d laugh at the idea if it wouldn’t be seen as rude. A smile threatened to twist your lips and you shook your head. “Monsters aren’t real. They're just...myths.”

“My dear, of course monsters exist. Everyone in the Underground aside from you and Frisk is one.” Toriel frowned gently, breathing in as though readying herself. “Perhaps it would be better if we started this discussion with the beginning. Long ago, during a time that predates written history, two races ruled over Earth. Humans and monsters. One day, war broke out between the two races. After a long battle and countless lost lives, the humans were victorious. They sealed the remainder of us monsters deep under this mountain. We excavated further into the mountain, forged a home out of our prison. For generations now, we have stayed here, alive but cursed to never again see the world above by the seven magicians the humans gathered. Despite these circumstances, many of us still hope otherwise. That one day we shall all be free to live peacefully on the Surface.”

Nonplussed, you sat there frozen in place.

Pensive silence filled the room.

“Christ.” You eventually managed to wheeze, breath short.

Humanity sealing away monsters and then erasing them from history. You didn't want to believe your race was capable of that. You wanted to reject the heavy burden of inheritance, of indebted guilt taking a firm seat on your shoulders. You weren’t inclined to believe her, but why would she lie when the apparent truth sufficed? She was a talking goat lady that blew you up with a fireball. Your faith in the still present pain stayed strong.

Above all, you _knew_. 

You knew humanity. A part of you had always remained aware of what people were capable of when they were scared. The horrors they inflicted on each to this day only lent proof to things they must have done in the past.

You gave a bark of laughter and turned your gaze to the floor. It all fit. The weird healing candy, Toriel, Kermit. If monsters were real, what else about your life that you knew to be irrefutably true was fake? Vampires, aliens, hell the flat earth conspiracy.

On a roll your mind reviewed everything you’d seen and heard since falling and quickly connected the dots.

On top of that, they had been stuck under Mount Ebott for centuries, maybe longer. They’d probably tried every trick in the book and free themselves with no success to speak of. What chance of getting out did you, a university student, have?

There was nothing. You had nothing.

A large part of you wanted to just collapse onto the ground but you weren't quite sure whether you'd be able to get up quickly enough if something did go wrong. Logic dictated you and Frisk were safe for now, however, you weren't exactly the most rational person to exist. Did it matter? You were both going to die down here among monsters.

You shook your head, shoving those questions and fears in a tiny box in the back of your mind until you knew, for certain that there was no way out. You could tear yourself to pieces when you had a moment alone. "How long have I been out?" you asked, desperate to switch topics.

Information was good. Information meant you could make a plan and cling to it for dear life. And you were going to need a plan fast judging by how your thoughts were threatening to run down the dark rabbit hole of horrors at the situation you were in that sleepiness had barred the entrance to.

There had to be something, anything. The one method that they haven’t tried yet and a human was just what was needed. You needed to try. To stay determined.

Thankfully, Frisk didn’t hesitate to reply.  _"A few days. I think we’ve almost been down here a week."_ Maybe they saw the purposeful glint in your eyes. Good. You were in a bad situation and sugar coating everything would just waste precious time and energy.

‘Although we've clearly fulfilled the 'wasting time' quota,’ you thought, mentally wincing. That was a long time to have spent just sleeping.

_“I met Toriel near the flowerbed I fell on. I wasn’t as hurt as you so she healed me really fast.”_

That didn’t make much sense.

“I pass through the Ruins every day to see if anyone has fallen down.“ She explained when you looked to her.

“You didn’t find me. It was still night so I couldn’t have dropped in that long after Frisk, and I woke up the middle of the next day.”

At your raised brows, her hands clasped before her and she sighed. “My apologies. I was busy with Frisk who had fallen before you, so unfortunately I was unable to make my daily round the following day. If I had known, you would not have needed to make the journey on your own. I did my best to heal you but moving so soon after your fall only aggravated your injuries. Your recovery is taking longer than expected.” She then fixed you with a stern glare, freezing you in spot. “I do hope you consider taking better care of yourself and avoid such dangerous actions in the future.”

Your gaze fell, sinking further at Toriel’s admonishment. “Yeah…of course.” She was right about being more careful, of course, but it didn’t mean you wanted to admit it. You were right in your earlier assessment. She was a complete mom. “What happened was a reckless, and pretty stupid decision on my part but I had no idea when someone, if anyone, would come along. I thought it was either me trying finding help or waiting to die.”

Toriel’s gaze softened, “I hope none of the other monsters attacked you in your condition.”

“Not really.” You admitted, “Kermit helped lead me here.”

“Kermit?” Toriel seemed to think on your words for a moment before a smile lit up her features – and wow you never thought you’d ever think a goat monster was pretty. “Oh! You must be referring to the Froggit. He was quite worried but I assured him you’d be alright in due time. As soon as you are well enough to walk outside I can take you to see him again.”

“Okay.” You sighed, a hand raising you cover the following yawn.

Frisk was staring at you, the fabric of their sweater bunched between a set of their pudgy fingers.  _“You sound tired sis.”_

“I am.” You huffed, more irritated than you intended to sound. “I just learned humans are bigger jerks than I gave them credit for. Sealing away an entire race and then just forgetting them seems right up our kind’s alley.”

Toriel intervened then, cutting off the simmering annoyance as she offered a hand. You took it, easily pulled up like you weighed nothing. To her you probably did. “Do not worry about that. For now, simply rest. We can discuss this further at a later time.” Rest sounded like a wonderful idea after that information dump. It could give you a chance to finally process everything you learned.

Led back to the room – a children’s room, you noted with some disparagement – and tucked back into bed, Toriel disappeared for but a minute before returning with a slice of pie. She set it gently on your lap and exited with well wishes.

Slowly, your smile faded.

You were lucky such a nice lady was looking out for you. This treatment was preferable over homicidal inbreds or demons any day. But you couldn't take advantage of or rely on her motherly kindness forever. 

The empty plate soon sat discarded by the side of the bed. The pie tasted like nothing on your numbed tongue, temporarily quelling the hungry churn of your stomach.

Hours slowly dragged past and you ruminated during every agonized second of it. Despair threatened to consume you. One thought stood out among the rest. You held it close to your heart as you eventually drifted off to a fitful bout of sleep.

Somehow you'd find a way.

You’d be damned if you let Frisk die trapped down here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit late again but be honest, if you were confronted with the fact that monsters and magic was real your mind would B.S.O.D itself.
> 
> Toriel is still best Mom though.


	4. Oblivious

_"Impossible things happen. When they do happen, most people just deal with it. Today, like every day, roughly five thousand people on the face of the planet will experience one-chance-in-a-million things, and not one of them will refuse to believe the evidence of their senses.”_  
― Neil Gaiman

* * *

A light voice pulled you out of floating between the line of sleep and the waking world. Your vision was fuzzy at best as you opened your eyes, head swimming from exhaustion and hunger. You tried to lift your head only to be hit with a roiling wave of nausea. "Careful child, you shouldn't be trying to move just yet." A furry but strong hand gently grasped your shoulder, guiding you back down onto the bed. You tilted your head slightly, wincing as a light on a far wall nearly blinded you.

"What?" Your voice sounded weak, scraping against your dry throat. As if in answer you found a wooden cup pressed up against your parched lips. Gratefully, you sipped at the cooling water, sighing in relief as you felt your thirst somewhat quenched. You tried opening your eyes again with limited success, only managing to catch the silhouette of the person sitting beside you.

The visage of Toriel sharpened into focus. "Do you recall where you are?"

Right. _Monsters._

Not that you had anything against Toriel. As it stood, the monster was one of the kindest people you had ever chanced upon meeting. She opened her home to humans after the war your race forgot all about, was nursing you back to health and looked after your sibling while you remained out of commission. That’s more than you expected from an everyday human at any rate.

You managed to prop yourself up on your elbows and right your vision, nodding. “Yeah, I’m fine Toriel.”

She smiled and went about your daily check up.

Days ago you had questioned why you hadn’t been healed the same way as Frisk. A part of you quietly stewed, increasingly jealous at the fact you were confined to bedrest the past week while Frisk bounded about with unrestricted freedom. Waking up to the same child bedroom settings wore at you, reinforcing the fact that you were still trapped under thousands of feet of rock. Each time you came to you wished this would be over, and every time you were denied. A change of scenery at the very least would help you immensely. You could do without laying in place for hours at a time with the walls and your thoughts enclosing you to fester in your personal hell.

She had laughed it off and explained how it wasn’t as simple as you thought was. Healing didn’t function as an instant panacea. The magic worked by interacting with your body, helping it along and encouraging your natural regeneration. The patchwork of bruises and cuts from your fall had been taken care of swiftly but you sustained too much damage and the rest required multiple sessions.

You tilted your head to the side. Shimmering green hands passed over areas you reported any lingering soreness. You sighed, overwhelming warmth akin to the summer sun washing over you and smothering the pain into relief.

As it turned out, Toriel had sent you flying into the tree in the middle of her yard and dislocated the shoulder of your broken arm. Appalled wasn’t good enough to describe your reaction to hearing that but your arm and side already felt better, the unbearable stinging reduced to a dull ache. Your hand twitched in its splint.

If you concentrated you could even feel the fingers.

You had been right to worry about that. Toriel was trying her best but she admitted as of now your hand might never fully recover. You decided you might as well count your blessings and be grateful it was the non-dominant one.

Absent gaze locked on Frisk waiting in the doorway, their hands were a flurry of movement as they told you about their day thus far. Their eyes were crinkled into slits in a way that had always seemed to annoy you. Of course Frisk had begun to do it all the time after the first time you mentioned that to them.

It was almost time for their walk through the ruins with Toriel. The kid had really taken a shine to her, even flirting with her. Now and then, you’d make a half-hearted attempt at dissuading them from the habit but you’d long since stopped actively pursing that road.

Flirting aside, it was nice to see them acting normally. As far as you knew they handled the change much better than you. They still read, played games, and helped Toriel around the house. Sometimes they would stay by your bedside. You’d ask how they were doing. They would always tell you they were fine and then go on about all the monsters they befriended in the Ruins. Though, they never said anything about it, you knew the loss of their family was bothering them. You saw it in the way they would pause when in the middle of an activity they did with your other family members or stare forlornly at a drawing.

If only you could hurry up and heal faster. Toriel said it would take the upwards of a month to bring you back to perfect health. You didn’t question the timeframe. She was the one with magic healing powers, so you tried not to notice the crestfallen look cast over her face.

What you couldn’t ignore once again was the room. When Toriel and Frisk were absent once you had rummaged through it.

The dusty toys that had been left at the bed foot disinterested you. Lots of dolls in the vague shapes of various monsters you had never seen before were stuffed together in the toy box. There was even a little king with a little crown and a happy, smiling face stitched on. They weren't labeled and didn’t seem anything high quality. Maybe they were collectables, or maybe Toriel made them? They were all rather small, maybe the size of your hand. A few seemed to have ripped before, but we're sewn back together less then expertly, as if done quickly to not get caught.

Most of the shirts hung up in the closet were a different version of Frisk’s shirt, but in different colors and with one fewer stripe. Scarves for the cold, long pants and little pink mittens were folded neatly in the drawers underneath. The Ruins weren't nearly cold enough for such winter gear so why were there so many... and why were they all Frisk’s size?

The shelf housed several paraphernalia, a crayon drawing of the yellow flowers decorating the wall above it. You had turned the lamp on and off several times, wondering if they used electricity or magic. Trying to remove the dust from the small picture frame to see the picture better had proven futile. It seemed the dust was inside the frame itself. From what you could tell the picture inside was faded horribly, whoever had been photographed was just a simple black and white outline of who they used to be.

All this belonged to a small child at some point. But now a hollowness hung over the room, permeating the air, becoming suffocating when thought too hard upon.

Feeling like an intruder to something private, something not meant for you, fed fuel to your recurrent paranoia.

Frisk’s neutral expression shifted into one of anticipation as you blinked at the call of your name, facing Toriel once more. “Oh. Sorry, what was that?”

“I asked if you’d like to go for a little walk today. You have healed enough to manage standing on your own without tiring too quickly.” You looked at her, searching for any hint of a lie and she just smiled.

The way she preferred referring to you both as children despite knowing your names and that you weren’t one made sense after spending a bit of time thinking on it. Her mothering you and Frisk hadn’t been a figment of your imagination, the constant overprotective hovering. The loneliness was obvious, once you were made aware of it and knew what to look for. But it wasn’t your place to bring up a sensitive topic like that to your caretaker. It did cement your decision to get out of here.

“No kidding.”

“None whatsoever.” Still going with that little smile, she leaned back and smoothed out her purple robes, then folded her hands. “If you don’t want to accept and would rather stay in bed, that’s up to you. We can arrange for that, but Frisk and I would appreciate it the extra company.”

You’ve never rolled out of a bed so fast in your life.

You wobbled, first few steps sending the world’s axis into a violent tilt. Quickly you found a palm held outstretched before you, offering for you to take it. You reached out, feeling almost like a child as your hand was swallowed up by hers and sat snugly in her grip. On your left, you felt the arm of Frisk’s sweater brush against yours as they intertwined their fingers in your numb set. "Come now. Walk with me child, we have a lot to talk about."

Toriel lead you by the hand as your trio walked through the Ruins. Without pain clouding your vision, you took the time to take in and appreciate the autumn aesthetics of the many corridors. “Stay close, alright? The ruins are full of traps and puzzles, and you're not ready to face them yet as you are. But don't worry. I'll be here if anything happens.”

Monsters, mostly insects, frogs, and other small creatures, crawled out to observe you. None dared to approach. Toriel did cut an imposing figure. Most of the puzzles hadn’t reset yet. The ones that were Frisk ran ahead and solved, clearing the way. You were pretty sure you walked through the same room four times, the pillars position the only difference between them.

You came to a split in the path, leaves on the right path and another corridor down the left. Toriel was pleased at your progress. “You're doing quite well, my child! I'd say that was a real walk in the park!”

You squinted at the giggling woman. Was…was that a pun?

Frisk pulled on Toriel’s robe. _“Can I go to the bake sale?”_

“Go ahead.” She handed Frisk some type of coins. Your sight was obscured by her hands but you thought you saw a glint of gold in the light. “We’ll be just up ahead.”

Frisk nodded and ran down the left path. You gave Toriel a puzzled look. “I thought you watched them.”

“They are free to wander. I've already tested their independence and given them a cell phone. I told them to just call if they have a need for anything, or in case we were separated and they need assistance. Not... not that there should be any problems. You’ll be safe as long as you stay with me, it's just... just in case.” Seemingly pulled out of her trance-like state she blinked rapidly, regaining her composure and earlier kindly stance.

Red flags cropped up, blaring to your intuition something felt off about that last sentence. You stared at her for a few moments in awkward silence before she coughed into her hand.

“Ahem. Shall we continue?” She patted you on the shoulder and began walking down the corridor again, avoiding your suspicious gaze. “Now, in the Underground there are a few things you have to learn. Luckily, I shall be more than happy to guide you! Teaching is sort of a hobby of mine, you see.” Presented with her back, you don’t notice the glee gradually growing on Toriel's expression. “Many monsters you meet in the underground may wish to harm you, or block your way. But if you merely talk to them, you will find there is no conflict you cannot escape.“ She turned to face you and buried her snout into a hand, snort poorly contained. Your brows furrowed. “Now perhaps I can give you a...tu- _Toriel!”_

“Oh my _god_.”

Your snort mixed with her giggles, more from the surprise of the realization than the joke itself because goddammit you wondered how you missed it. Your mind raced for a response.

“As long as you aren’t dicta- _Toriel_ about it.”

Dear god that was awful.

But it seemed to work enough. Toriel was in stitches, the pure and genuine laughter resounding throughout the corridors. You glowed with pride at your pun, mind drawn from the previous subject. You aren’t good at thinking up puns on the fly but the punnery gods bestowed mercy upon you today.

She's in the middle of a fit of chuckles and trying to get herself together when something within her robes beeps and buzzes. She withdrew the most ancient phone you’ve ever had the pleasure of viewing. It’s like one of those old car phones but wireless and built tougher than brick. The survivability of it being tossed off an apartment looked astronomically higher than yours.

“Hello?” she said.

As she listened, her smile flattened into a worried frown. Soon she pocketed the phone and settled a hand on your hand. “It seems Frisk needs some assistance. A monster is being particular persistent and I must have a firm word with them. Please wait here, I’ll be back in a moment.” With that, you were left alone.

You knew you had two options. Either continue on, or wait for Toriel and have to deal with all the questions that would surely pop into your head if you rested for even a second.

You tried waiting, struggling to quell your mental frustrations and the urge to push on forward. You wondered if it was it even morning anymore. Perhaps it was the afternoon– maybe even night time. The constant light didn't help with telling time. All you really knew was the tired ache pulling at your muscles and the hunger building. Maybe you could stomach one of those candies for the time being.

But then, what if there were monsters roaming around? Toriel was the sort of 'ruler' of the ruins, so monsters would have to come to her to solve problems. Politics. Unless the monsters didn't need a ruler... they could all just be self sustaining. But how would that work?

You remembered Frisk’s mention of a bake sale, curious to how currency and economics really worked. You wondered if monsters ate the same type of food as humans.

Toriel did bake sweets, but what about other normal food like spaghetti, or hot dogs? What if they ate weird things, like the candy from before, or only candy? Both the pie and candy tasted strange on the way down, tingling the insides of your throat like soda. Since then all you’ve had was soup and that put you off just as much. When you ate it, it was like someone dropped a mentos into coke, bubbles fizzing and popping within you before dissolving, leaving one empty stomach and a confused, less hungry human.

A few minutes later, the purple brick grating on your eyes the longer you stared at nothing, you watched as a pair of monsters stepped into the room and spotted you.

Much to your displeasure, the ghost bug monster flew closer, shaking violently out of either fear or anger. You hoped it was the former. You couldn't fight. You backpedalled and raised your hands to attempt to pacify the monster, your arm groaning in protest.

"Oh no..." It whispered, voice trembling as much as it’s body. Maybe you could try out Toriel’s advice and somehow convince it to not attack you?

“Hey, wait a second!”

It started in your chest, where your heart resided.

Your world swirled on its axis. A feeling of a million tiny charged hooks coiling into every fibre of your body swept through you. It was like someone was bending them, forcing them against your own will. The insistent tugs burned your skin like you were buried in ice; twisting into you, until you knew it wasn’t skin but something deeper.

You gripped the shirt above your heart. You didn't understand the strange tightness in your chest; only that the monster had caused it. Panic then set in as you impulsively decided to wrench away to find it wouldn't separate entirely. You pulled harder, leaning backwards so your whole body weight was helping in your desperate attempt to get away.

The pressure was suffocating. Pooling in your heart it felt as if the muscle no longer beat. You felt like you were cracking open, being ripped from all sides. A vital part of you never consciously known to you rose to the surface, fluttering just out reach.

Then, just as suddenly, it all stopped.

There was a moment of peace as you felt free, like a stray cloud floating on the breeze, then... nothing.

You felt…

You.

It’s difficult, too abstract to properly articulate in the moment, the culmination of your entire being. It’s like what defined you was suddenly opened up to your eyes. It’s lacking in substance but overwhelming in energy, emotion and presence. It’s a diamond polished to a shine in it’s purest form, mirroring and reflecting your true nature back to you. It’s your lowest and highest points. It’s all your greatest and worst qualities. It’s your memories, hopes, dreams, fears, pain. It’s everything you’d known and everything yet to come. It’s what makes you…you.

It’s elsewhere.

The sensation – too much, too exposed, _this was never meant to happen_ – made you take a choking, gasp of a breath. You feel together and separated, like you’re existing in two places at the same time.

Only then you see, but not really see, the light freed from its confines within you. Literally. It’s still inside you, sitting in your chest on the right hand side and intense. It’s as if all the color in the world was drained into the gravitational singularity that was you, a one-dimensional point in an infinitely small space, extinguishing everything and leaving the monster as shades and tints of white and black.

The moment happened in all of three seconds.

You’re given no time to comprehend it further. The monster spun around and released several white moths. “I am... Just a whimsun… Sorry..."

"Uh- Oh... It's okay!" Your panic was lacing your voice, and the fluttering Whimsun seemed to cower at those words. "I don't want to fight- How about... We just introduce ourselves?”

“I have no choice. You're a human... Forgive me...”

Momentarily, you were left at a loss to why being a human warranted being attacked and then it hit you. You were a _human_ \- the same race who locked away these monsters, banishing them to an underground prison for eternity. If you were born and raised in a cavern due to your people being trapped - you would certainly be burning with righteous anger over the wrongdoing. These monsters were most likely convinced all humans were evil.

Whimsun avoided eye contact, muttering apologies under its breath as the moths quivered before flying towards you.

One hit your arm and a pain like you’ve never known swept through you, blossoming out from that spot. It’s too foreign and alien to your senses for you to begin understanding. The closest comparison you could make of the burning sensations was being stabbed with a thousand degree knife but it still fell far too short.

You didn't hear your own scream. You only felt the intense strain of your vocal cords being putting under pressure. There was too much; too much emotions rushing over your and wrecking your body like a tsunami. Your eyes burned and your sight blurred.

You wondered if you were losing your mind.

Maybe you were dead like you first thought.

Your head throbbed, the new, more familiar pain grounding you enough for your other senses to kick back in. Another flurry of white moths hung in the air but the Whimsun was shaking violently. Before it had the chance to do anything or you could dive out of the way, a wall of magical flames encircled you.

The monster fled down the hall and the world plunged into color, the acute awareness of yourself no longer overwhelming everything else but the feeling of suffocation remained. You clenched your eyes shut. The next thing you knew, a warmth settled around you; all encompassing and singing a song of safety.

You heard your name. "Breathe."

As if that word had control over your very being you felt air suck through your throat and into your lungs. Your eyes fluttered open, permitting you to see Toriel hovering over you. Frisk was clinging tightly to your body, face burrowed into the crook of your shoulder, blunt nails gripping your tender skin, and you’re both on Toriel’s lap, her arms drawn protectively around the both of you.

You wanted to sob but a laugh wrenched itself free from your raw throat instead.

You all sat there for a long time. You’re unsure if minutes or hours have passed by the time Toriel ended the impromptu group hug, insistent on cutting the walk short and going back to her house.

You were inclined to agree but the thought of your abandoned bag tucked away nagged at you. Toriel was hesitant to risk any further damage to your body, but you were steadfast. If anything was salvageable from your trip down, it wouldn’t remain that way for long. Rain would drop in at some point or maybe it already did and you could kiss all your electronics goodbye. Why the thought to use your phone when you’d first fallen hadn’t crossed your mind was unknown to you.

That’s how you found yourself digging the untouched, dry knapsack out of the crack in wall. You had ripped open the top and fished out the cellular device, flicking it on. No service.

You had wanted to scream again.

Toriel was quietly talking to Frisk, but you could see them stealing worried glances at you from time to time. You couldn’t blame them. You’d been staring at the golden flowers for the better part of an hour in silence after the failed attempts to reach someone, anyone, beyond the walls of the mountain.

Not a trace of your blood remained on the flowers. You’d long since come to the morbid conclusion that the roots must have sucked it up.

The fight, if you could call it that, weighed heavily on your mind. If the encounter with the Whimsun was any indication, you were left without a way to defend yourself - at least normally. You wanted to go back to the surface. It was at least a little bit less confusing up there, and normally nobody attacked you. The self awareness never faded either.

Though it was the same body you’d woken up in that morning, you could feel something was different. Something felt too contained, cramped up inside the curves and hollows of your body. It was a subtle discomfort, like wearing too tight clothes. Only now it was your own skin.

You didn't belong here.

You would make it back up to the surface.

…The desire looked as far away as the flickers of light shined down the distant opening of the hole, bathing you, Frisk and Toriel with the faintest hints of warmth.

You could do this. Somehow. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other.

A hand rested on your shoulder, dragging you back to the real world. "You and Frisk are more than welcome to stay here. I cannot promise you an exciting life but you will have companionship and peace if you so choose."

You stared at nothing. "…You would let us stay here?"

She merely smiled to herself. "Of course, what kind of monster would I be if I turned away two humans in need on my doorstep?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My entire posting plan was thrown off last week so I wasn't able to update this fic on time. So! This week this fic gets two chapters.


	5. Enthalpy of Formation

_“If we do not plant knowledge when we are young, it will give us no shade for when we are old."  
_ ― Lord Chesterfield

* * *

The unfairness of your situation, the unfairness of this world, and the lack of anyone around to blame for it caused a mixture of terror and resentment to smoulder inside of you.

Which was only made worse by the uncomfortable sensation of something foreign running around your body.

You struggled to go back to how you had been before the reveal, completely unaware of what you now had, and what was missing. However, now that you knew, you realized you'd always been conscious of what was inside you on some level. You just had been existing in a state of unawareness, but when faced with it, you had to fully accept it.

However, what resided inside your body was so different to anything you'd experienced prior that you couldn't think of it as being a part of who you were. You could feel your soul inside you. So aware of it were you that it made you squirm in discomfort and cause Toriel to give you strange looks. Before you had grasped what it was, you had never really felt it at all. To her, it must have been as unnoticeable as the magic pumping through her.

To you, it was a constant, upsetting reminder of who and where you were.

It took three days of anxiety and internal panic before you managed to calm down enough. You couldn't go back to being unaware like you had been, so you turned to other ways of making yourself forget. You thought of what you were going to do now.

Your initial thought was to just run. Where didn't matter, as long as it was far enough away to avoid the hell that was life in a magic dependent world.

Reluctantly, you pushed it to the side. There was no way you could just run. For starters, you were a mere human who could barely understand the concepts of the forces working around you. Secondly, this was the Underground. Monsters were trapped here by _something_  the humans did. What it was you had no idea. Anyway, you doubted you could survive on your own with Frisk even with your intelligence. You still didn't have the basic knowledge of how the economy worked or the geography of the land.

On the other hand, there was no way you could just stay. That was just asking to be killed by one of the vengeful monsters sure to come along.

The brief, quiet thought you had of doing exactly what Toriel wanted, staying to live a life underground and maybe trying to help the monsters escape made you wonder for a split second whether you had gone completely mad.

No. A million times no.

You were under no false pretence that you were in any way some sort of noble hero. That was some other poor soul’s position and you'd gladly let them have it, no contest required. To put it simply, you did not want to sacrifice yourself for the good of a world you were still having difficulty thinking of as not fictional.

Because why the hell would anyone even want to try that? To purposefully have the responsibility of an uncountable amount of lives weigh down on your back when it could work out fairly okay without your meddling involved? To purposefully step into the line of fire and spend the rest of your life dodging bullets?

Yes, you'd have to live with the guilt of not even attempting to save innocent lives. But at least you'd be alive to try assuring Frisk’s safety. Statistically, there wasn't too much you could do for them anyway.

So there'd be no helping with noble intentions thank you very much.

You eventually came to a compromise between your desire to run as soon as possible and live as long as possible. As much as you disliked the prospect, you would have to stay with Toriel and learn how to defend yourself. In order to be in the safest position possible, you had to be able to squeeze out of situations that could be mildly dangerous and that warranted skills only someone familiar with magic could achieve. Even if that meant chancing interaction between yourself and dangerous monsters.

Once there, you'd make it your mission to be the most unremarkable, unnoticeable person to ever traverse through the Underground. Not so stand out that others would take notice of it. Not so bad that you'd be seen as easy pickings. You had to be completely and utterly average.

After that, you’d leave.

* * *

Time passed.

And the more time you spent in the Ruins, the more your thoughts began to wander beyond the usual downward spiral.

You gradually began to become more comfortable with the presence of your soul humming within your body - an earlier constant symbol of the dire world you inhabited. You were still hyper aware of it, however, you'd stopped squirming so much at the sensation. Even now it was a foreign entity, just a foreign entity that you'd become used to being around. Sometimes it went as far as being reassuring to feel it in your body.

Since your soul wasn't so overwhelming anymore, you had asked Toriel what it meant. If what you felt was a by product of you having magic.

An indescribable look had passed over her features before she definitively mentioned it wasn’t magic. Had it been so you would have no problem producing your own magic or understanding a monster’s speech via magical patterns. Both of which, you couldn’t do.

You wondered briefly whether one would count magic as a radiation of sorts, carried by waves through the surroundings. Could it technically then be diffracted or reflected? Reluctantly, you had abandoned your curiosity in favor of focusing on reading and learning more useful known things. Once you and Frisk had returned to the Surface you could busy yourself with things like that.

You were teetering on the edge of a month into your stay the first time you asked Toriel what her what her magic felt like.

Despite the danger it could present, you were still fascinated by magic. For the longest time you’d simply written it off as fiction. It only existed in books, television, movies and games, worlds crafted by writers to engross readers like you into their creations. As a child you spent many days in fantasies of your own, pretending you could pull off the insane feats yourself. But now it was _real_ and _tangible_ to you.

Harbouring an intense interest in it, you had many questions about it. Sometimes they’re easy, inconsequential things Toriel answered without a second thought. She was a wonderful teacher, and being subjected to her loving care felt like walking into an obvious trap, carefully woven with only the best of intentions.

You asked if people could be brought back from the dead. No, not possible. Past attempts by mages ended horrifically.

You asked whether magic could turn a human into an animal. The level of complexity for that to be achieved was unheard of.

You asked where magic came from. From within the soul.

Some things Toriel admitted she didn’t know yet, because it’s was beyond even her seemingly endless well of knowledge.

Magic almost felt like it carried a physical presence. A weight that it possessed, a tingling energy palpable in the air you ever slowly learned to know where and when to look for it. You knew you’d never be able to wield magic the way a monster could and therefore never reside on the same level of understanding. Mentally though, you soaked up the information like a void. You loved watching Toriel’s graceful displays of burning white fire when she made dinner, baked pie, or lit the fireplace. You loved the feeling of it even more. Direct contact was something else entirely.

With Toriel, there was a stark difference between her healing and the split second you saw the fireball your first day in the Ruins. Normally when you held her hand or touched any other monster, you felt nothing out of the ordinary. Just fur or bumpy skin or slick slime. This was like none of those times.

She had set you down and gently took both of your hands in hers, an unnatural bright white outline overlapping onto your skin and seeping in.

You imagined all the colors of the rainbow sparkling at once in a single strand waving on the wind.

And then it kicked you in the heart.

The world burst into vivid color with startlingly clarity. The feeling of it rushing through your veins was indescribable. It felt so similar, yet held a vastly different presence from her soothing healing. So different from when that Whimsun attacked you.

Static and heat blended into an chaotic symphony, a magnetic hymn rising above the humming din. Nerves alight with the phantasmal sensations you seized up, thrown back to the night you fell into the Underground. Projected physical force exerted a noticeable pressure on your body. And yet you were flooded with nostalgia, such…completeness, utter joy, you didn’t think words could explain such emotions.

Fine, soft fur brushed your cheeks, wiping away the tears trailing from your eyes.

“I think that’s enough for today my child.” Toriel said, voice distant to your ears. She had knelt to your level and enveloped you in a hug. You didn’t resist the motion. Not that you could.

* * *

More time passed.

As much as you hated to admit it, you were growing used to the Ruins.

You hadn’t given up yet, persistently poking at new ways to explore possibilities of escape, but you had been lulled into a sense of security and grown complacent with your arrangement.

There was something to be said about the sheer lack of socialization that Toriel seemed to have. Initially, you had assumed that Toriel was simply unused to company and it was a one-off thing. In fact, Toriel didn’t even talk to the monsters in the ruins and was, according to Kermit, “scary”, as you'd learnt after watching her interactions with people other than you and Frisk.

Even with you, she acted differently. She was mothering but a little distant, closed off and avoidant on certain topics.

You chalked it up to her needing some time. To fully absorb that she was looking after others again who weren’t afraid of her. But it made more sense once you thought about it further – it was clear she had a child at some point and they seemed to be no longer around. Maybe she was using you and Frisk to fill the hole left behind. You had no idea, it was all speculation.

You were reluctant to leave the kind, yet hurting woman. Abandoning Toriel to endure years more of loneliness on her own was unacceptable. When the time came to leave, you’d try talking her into coming with you.

Mixed feelings about Toriel aside, you were nothing short of thrilled with the idea of being left to your own devices for large portions of time. As nice as she was, you didn't have too great of an attachment to Toriel or at least not as strong a connection as one usually would have towards a parental figure. Whilst the relationship dynamic between her and Frisk was amusing, you had difficulty harbouring feelings of deep affection for her. The fondness was there, for sure, but it was more like that towards an aunt and uncle. Your relationship wasn't helped by the fact she often treated you like a child when your mental capabilities were far beyond that. As a result, you enjoyed being left alone more than you did with her.

Plus, not having her looking over your shoulder to see what you were doing meant you could learn the things you needed to without any sticky situations coming up.

She did, however, have quite the impressive book collection. Very quickly you found yourself overwhelmed by the sheer amount of knowledge there that you wanted to absorb but found difficulty in doing so.

Reading was an issue due to the language it was written in and you had to accept some tutelage from Toriel. You struggled stubbornly through paragraphs of text during the day when she was absent and then heaved your way through the pages of books for children when she was around for you to ask for help.

Progress was infuriatingly slow. Toriel found your almost obsessive focus on learning how to read amusing, which only served to make you even more irritated. What she saw as endearing, you saw as a major block in the roads of your plan.

It was exhausting, spending hours trying to go through a single passage of a book everyday.

Hand in hand with Frisk, you deposited a handful of gold into the massive web stretching across the length of the wall. Some spiders roughly the size of your fist scuttled down the white threads, buoyed by the springy strands as their gangly legs carted off the coins. A different pair descended with a fresh batch of brown pastries lathered in thick purple icing and a netting of sugar. Another left behind a brown jug.

You politely suppressed a shudder throughout the transaction, only allowing it to wash over you once you’ve exited the room. You dabbed at the accumulated sweat on your forehead with your sleeve.

Holy shit.

Spider donuts and spider cider had become a staple of Frisk’s desert repertoire, the child indulging a few of each every week. You weren’t as adventurous, your turbulent stomach unwilling. The most you managed was a few tentative sips of cider before you called it quits.

The arachnophobia was mild within you.

Usually spiders didn’t concern you too much as long as they stayed off your person. You were content to watch them crawl across the room to safety. Maybe whimper a little and leap for higher ground if they started in your general direction. The day you found out about spider monsters was one of the worse ones in recent memory, freezing when Frisk brought you before them and getting the hell out of dodge once they made their purchase.

It was bad enough discovering the residential bakers were sentient spiders, years of instinctive unease screaming at you to keep your distance but forcing you to keep them within your line of sight at the same time. It’s not like you wanted to be creeped out by your neighbours. You figured with some exposure therapy you could become desensitized to the fear over time. But learning the products held traces of dead spiders after you started on your second donut? That took the cake. You had choked on the confection and spat it out in horror. Toriel sternly admonished you over the disrespect.

Turns out monsters became dust when they died. Spider dust was what went into batter so they could become one with others, not physical bits and pieces of dead arachnids. At least the spiders themselves didn’t consume the food containing their fallen brethren. You weren’t sure if you could handle cannibalism… Or was it? Other monsters ate it, the food baked with the dust of other monsters…

You hadn’t come to a conclusion yet. Don’t think too hard on it. Focus on that you’re getting better with the phobia.

By the way, that pedestal candy you sampled? The one that tasted like butterscotch licorice and became non-licorice?

Snails. Real snails, not monster snails. The pie slice you’d first eaten too. You’d been too out of it then to notice but the second time around the odd texture sure as hell stopped you. It had tasted, and felt, somewhat like a meaty mushroom quiche of sorts.

A croak broke your wayward train of thought. “Hey Kermit.”

The monster puffed up from underneath the shadows of his leaf pile and Frisk giggled. The Froggit sometimes accompanied you through the Ruins but more often than not, like today, he lounged around instead.

With a shrug, you and Frisk went on your merry way, coming across a white spot on the purple grass. Aside from the hazy white glow surrounding it, and the vivid red colors of the leaves washing through its fog-like figure, one might have believed someone carelessly draped a sheet on the floor. Soft whimpering moans could be heard.

Frisk ran forward, gait thrown off as they awkwardly clutched at the spider donuts to sign with a hand. _“Hi Napstablook!”_ they said.

The ghost startled, vanishing into thin air.

…

Well then.

“He was just surprised. Maybe another time Frisk. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.” You said gently, shifting your grip on the cider.

Frisk frowned but returned to your side nonetheless.

Normally Napstablook stayed longer than that. When they hung around the Ruins instead of rejecting themself out of existence, you found you liked the depressing monster. They had gravity defying acidic tears that could formulate quite the dapper hat and a great taste in music.

Like Toriel, you weren’t exactly chatty with monsters besides those two. Really, you liked being social with some alone time mixed in every now and then. What you didn't like was some of the pointless conversations that people had with each other. You wanted talks with witty remarks woven into the chatter. You wanted to discuss mature topics sometimes. You wanted conversations with people on the same wavelength as you. Sometimes you got that from Toriel when she wasn't treating you like a child.

The fact you wanted nothing to do with any of the people you planned on leaving behind only caused the prospect of extended interaction with monsters to be even less appealing.

Case in point, a large carrot with a face and a huge bug leaped out from behind the pillar you and Frisk passed by, both gnashing their teeth. The room seemed to fade into darkness as the light of your soul overwhelmed your sight. Blinking, you glanced at Frisk, their form cast into the same monochrome scheme. A red cartoon heart blazed on the front of their chest.

The transition no longer threw you into a panic, but it still felt uncomfortable to have your soul exposed. You’ve had a bit of practice now with dodging and talking down monsters, getting wrecked in the process. The pain still hurt like hell, but over time, with each hit, the sting dulled to a more manageable level.

Toriel had patiently walked you through what encounters were after she’d demanded an apology from the Whimsun.

“Encounters are, at their core, a method of communication and interaction between two beings. Many monsters convey thoughts and emotions, using their magic as an expression of self.”

“If they were just talking why did it hurt so much?”

“An encounter is many things. Think of it like a stage. A set up for several possible outcomes to take place such as a fight, though it doesn’t necessarily have to be one. Monsters are used to utilizing encounters in their everyday lives to talk, train or play, and as a result the interactions are cordial.”

You’ve taken to calling it a magic chatroom.

It felt good to know a lot of monsters in the Underground didn’t always intentionally want to kill you when they initiated an encounter. Their magic talking patterns just had the unfortunate side effect as doubling as the real life equivalent of a bullet hell minigame for magic-less humans.

“Now humans aren’t as attuned to their souls as monsters are, so the soul must leave their bodies and act as a direct conduit of sorts for any magic.”

“So…it’s like putting on a hearing aid.”

“Yes.”

You didn’t understand why your soul stayed firmly rooted inside you like a monster’s when Frisk’s was bared for the world to see.

Toriel didn’t either.

"Vegetoid is here for your health," the talking carrot hissed.

The giant bug glanced over at the vegetable, mimicking the its gnashing teeth and speaking up as well. "MIGOSP OBEY THE OVERMIND!" It screeched loudly, glancing back over at the Vegetoid then back at Frisk then you. Thank god, you knew what to do now.

You blurted out the first word you could think of. "Food?"

The Vegetoid grinned at you, sickeningly, and spun around. Frisk, having set down the donuts, caught the projectile hurled at you, the magic lost it’s green shading to reveal a carrot. You watched the bug watching the Vegetoid who was watching Frisk hold the vegetable while watching you. They took a bite and gave a thumbs up.

This seemed to please the Vegetoid as it dug into the ground and left only you two and the Migosp. It looked around for a second, then completely changed it's posture. The bug relaxed, humming slightly as it danced slightly to the beat of it's own drum.

The world regained it’s color.

You relaxed slightly, waiting until Frisk grabbed the donuts before taking their hand and continuing the trek back to Toriel’s house. That was enough encounters for one day.

* * *

It was strange how much time continued to pass at a slow crawl yet simultaneously fly by in the blink of an eye.

You sat among crinkling leaves lining the outside of the house, staring up at the corridor’s ceiling. You weren’t supposed to be out here, in fact Toriel always got incredibly worried when she found you outside. Even so you couldn't sleep, dreams once again invaded by scenes of darkness and red. It was like you occupied a body not your own, looking through another’s eyes down on events you had no control over.

The nightmares didn't come that often but when they did you could never go back to sleep. Instead you wandered out to think for a while; about your new life, about the future, about the responsibilities of your sibling placed on your shoulders. You heard soft footsteps on the floor, expecting to see Toriel ready to gently berate you for not getting enough sleep. Instead you were surprised to find Frisk there instead, the child stealing a seat next to you.

 _"Nightmare again?"_ You nodded, eyes drifting back to the ceiling. _"The same one?"_

Again you nodded as your head drooped, resisting the urge to pull your knees up into your chest. "Always." Frisk sighed as they shifted closer into your lap, a comforting gesture which did relax you slightly. You turned your eyes away from them, instead following a crack along the ground. "I'm sorry Frisk."

The child looked up at you in confusion at your dead tone. _"For what?"_ they asked.

Your shoulders slumped as you faced forward, this time looking out, past the tree and leaves and into the corridor. "It's been almost three months and I haven't found anything to help us yet; I haven't kept my promise to you."

They sat in surprise for a moment before a sad smile slipped onto their face. _"I never asked you to make that silly promise."_ You huffed at that, your eyes narrowing. Frisk laid back on the ground, staring up. _“I’m sure we’ll be able to leave soon.”_

The confidence in their gestures and expression took you aback. They sounded absolutely certain you wouldn’t stay in the Ruins forever. You blinked before falling back next to them. "What makes you so sure of that?"

They smirked slightly at that, resting their hands on the stomach but still in your line of vision. _"I'm going to free all of us. You, me, Toriel. The Froggits, Whimsuns, Moldsmals. Everyone. Once we’re on the Surface, Toriel can live with us and be our second mom._ _Then we can live happily ever after."_ You outright scoffed at that, mirth coloring the sound and Frisk was immediately up on their elbows, brows furrowed together. _"What's so funny?"_

“Please,” You grinned. “If you ever get that strong then I'll be able to move the mountain around with a flick of my wrist."

This time it was their turn to scoff as they flopped back down onto their back.

“So how would you do it?" You felt Frisk’s questioning stare on the side of your face as it twisted into an unusually thoughtful expression. "How would you be the hero and free everyone?"

 _"I don't know,”_ they said, shrugging. _“But you know what Toriel says, if there is a problem we can't solve, as long as we have friends they'll be there to lighten the burden_."

You smiled fondly, a small chuckle gracing your lips. “But what if you need to fight someone?”

_“I’ll find a way to make friends with them.”_

They were so determined. You wished you could believe in that.

Frisk shied away from violence. You’ve seen Toriel encourage this, praising both their and your ability to talk your way out of fights. While you had no real issue with that, you felt it to be a bad idea to acknowledge one side of the coin alone. One mistake you’d never make was to severely underestimate the intelligence of a child. They weren’t mindless drones who mimicked everything they see. They understood.

“That’s a nice thing to strive for.” You sighed. “People could be redeemed or persuaded, but that’s not always going to be true.” At least in the case of humans. You did, however, make sure to take special care after Toriel mentioned some monsters were especially fragile. “As much as I wish otherwise, not everything can be fixed with words and being nice.”

See, you never tolerated indefensible acts like murder or torture. You were for questioning the use of force, but that didn’t mean you were necessarily against using it. Sometimes the answer to a question was yes. Sometimes, yes, violence was very much called for. Your point has never exclusively been, “Let’s all be friends, give peace a chance, live and let live.” What you cared about is who it’s being committed by, who it’s being committed against, and why.

Pacifism was fundamentally good. You were all for it, but you acknowledged it’s not a viable way of life. At the end of the day it’s a tactic. And that one tactic could not protect you in every situation. Sometimes, in the most desperate situations, that tactic becomes unusable altogether.

“Listen Frisk, you know that it’s impossible to go your whole life without hurting someone, right?” They blinked once, unable to tear their gaze away as they slowly shook their head. “Some think that out of fear or what they think peace is. I say people who shy away from all conflict, who vow never to harm anybody ever are cowards.” Their eyes widened. “You see, I know I’m probably not one to talk but I believe peace is not about avoiding fights, it's about choosing them."

_"Choosing them?"_

You rolled onto your side, grasping them firmly on the shoulder. Time to channel every shounen anime you’ve ever watched. "Everyone has a great power at their disposal. That means you too. With patience and training you can master it, becoming strong, very strong. But it is what you do with that strength that will define what kind of person you will become. Knowing how and when to use that power is what matters."

Whoa, you don’t know where all that came from but that was some solid advice right there.

You left it at that as you both descended into a calm but comfortable silence. You filed away your words into a mental cabinet for review at a later date. Now you just had to be a good role model and practice what you preached. You didn’t know what your mom was talking about when she doubted you. If you could dole out inspirational parent speeches like that on the fly, you had a good feeling about your ability to raise a kid.

Finally, Frisk seemed to find some resolution deep inside themself and nodded, a thoughtful expression that had no place on any child's face firmly set into their features. _"I think I understand now."_

You smiled at them with a warm expression. Getting to your feet, you offered them a hand and pulled them up into a standing position. Leaning forward you gently knocked your forehead against theirs, emulating what Toriel did on the rare occasion.

Boop.

The goat kiss had grown on you. The idea of goat monsters bumping their heads together to make friends and show affection like what real life goats did was too cute. It hadn’t taken you long to recognize it for what it was, your laughter at the sudden revelation after one such gesture bringing a light dusting of pink to her cheeks under the white fur.

Frisk’s cheeks puffed with air. You ruffled their hair to their annoyance before taking their hand and walking back inside.

You’ll get out one day but moments like these – with you and Frisk safe, happy, and healthy – were good enough for now.

You can live with this.

* * *

…

Surrounded by crumbling buildings, you found yourself walking rather aimlessly; thoughts transfixed on the problem that had been eluding you for the past week. You knew you were supposed to be relaxing for the express purpose of losing those thoughts, at least for a little while, but ingrained habits don't break that easily. However engrossed in your thoughts, you were still able to cast an appreciative eye about your surroundings.

The city of the Ruins was expansive, built out of the hollowed-out cavern. A network of enormous stone buildings rising out of the earth clumped tightly together. Some were pointed at the top while others were flat or even blossomed out like rocky mushrooms. It really was an impressive place to just wander through, your light footfalls the only source of noise. To think so many monsters once occupied the space after humans shoved them down here.

You continued to wander and think, drawing a random path through the almost labyrinth network of buildings until you found yourself near the centre of the constructs. Bunching your pants up your knees, you stepped into the shallow end of the water and knelt by the grassy shoots poking above the surface. You had decided to skip going to the small market positioned near the front of the city to getting the ingredients yourself. You already made the trip to the golden flower patch early in the day, a bushel of dandelions peaking over the rim of rush leaf woven basket. More than enough tea to last a while. You set aside the basket on a dry patch of ground and reached for your pouch.

The lake spanned the open center area. Fireflies had begun to buzz about atop the water, lighting it up in a shimmering myriad of strange, almost mystical patterns across the calm waters. It’s hypnotic to watch. Aquatic monsters had lived in it, large waterways branching off into different parts of the city. Now only small fish unfortunate enough to be swept away into the Underground inhabited the body of water. 

Perspiration slicked fingers curled around the hilt of the knife.

On the bright side, the ecosystem down there seemed to be thriving with life. You’d caught more than enough for a dinner or two. The magic food was great and all but sometimes you wanted something besides monster food.

To experience a taste of the life that seemed to be trickling with your hope through your fingers by the day, slow but steady.

You stayed patient, determination not unlike Frisk’s driving your persistent efforts for the past months but did it wear you down. You’ve attempted so many avenues, only arriving at a series of dead ends. You refused to give up searching. There had to be a place you hadn’t looked yet, an action you’ve yet to try. Frisk shared in your restless nature, tending to fidget more from being cooped up in the Ruins and asking more about an exit much to Toriel’s discomfort.

The blade gradually sawed through the bundled stems.

You repeated the motions until a stack of typha was nestled in the basket. Toriel was planning on a special dessert for tomorrow to congratulate you and Frisk and your peaceful stay with her thus far. The cinnamon and butterscotch pie sans any snail was something you’d eaten once in a blue moon. You’d take it home and grind the pollen into flour for the pie’s pasty.

With that thought in mind, you waddled out of the water and flicked off lingering droplets that clung to your skin. Gathering your things, you hoisted your basket onto your arm.

Perhaps you’d stop by the market anyway and surprise her with the fresh carrots she loved. Despite constantly smelling like steamed carrots and peas and cackling behind their mysterious smiles, the Vegetoids were more than happy to provide a healthy magical vegetable meal farmed locally. Very locally.

The air shifted, the sensation tugging your attention.

“You’re new to the Underground, aren'tcha? Golly, you must’ve been so confused when you fell in.”

You jerked your head, searching for the source of the high pitched voice and seeing nobody. Hearing voices wasn’t a good sign of anything.

“Down here.”

Your bewildered gaze lowered. You distinctly recalled no three foot flowers in your path on the way here yet here a single golden flower stood, it's roots digging through the stone. It was smiling at you. Amongst the six bright petals it had a face, complete with twin beady black eyes and a fully functioning mouth lined with teeth.

 _‘Optical illusion!’_ you quickly reasoned and stepped slightly to the left.

The entire flower moved with the face.

There was no mistaking it. That flower was watching you. A monster maybe? You hesitantly raised a hand, testing a small wave. The flower's grin seemed to widen and it bounced in place, leaves swiveling.

“Howdy!” You leapt back a few steps back in shock. It... spoke. The flower continued, clearly unfazed by your jump.

“I'm Flowey! Flowey the Flower!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay like by chapter ten? they should be out of the Ruins and then the real fun can begin.  
> I've made it a goal to screw around with the original plotline while still using it as a rough event guide.


	6. Deadlock

_"Be not afraid of moving forward, but of standing still."_  
― Chinese Proverb

* * *

The wind that occasionally drifted through this section of the corridors often had more variety than the stagnancy of the air present throughout the rest of the Ruins. Bitter chills, arid heat, humid breezes. Some days rain even fell from holes open to the Surface. For the most part, such as now, fading light filtered through the cracks.

Over time, you began savoring these changes and sought them out whenever possible. When nothing truly unusual happened in Ruins, these events helped remind you of the passage of time.

Slowing to a stop in the flower cavern, you gazed around for a moment and shook off your hood, releasing a shock of hair loosely tied together at the nape of your neck. Your bandaged hand reached out and drunk in the sensation of natural heat prickling against your skin. A faint smile found its way across your cheeks.

You figured you suffered nerve damage from the fall, rendering your hand weak. Sometimes you lost all sense of coordination with it. Numbness had been persistent, especially in your ring and little fingers, but thanks to Toriel’s efforts the majority of feeling had returned to it.

Screwed up hand aside, things were alright.

You were safe and healthy. Frisk was safe and healthy. Both of you grew more antsy by the day and you were certain Toriel saw it too. You knew it was a possibility you feared, but it was happening anyway. You stayed too long and was growing _too_ attached to Toriel. Being beset with the palpable urge to stay with here paired with thoughts of ‘maybe Toriel was right and this is my home now’ was like a constant ache in your chest.

But you were still determined to leave.

You lowered your gaze to the golden flowers, brows scrunched in thought.

One of them moved.

“Howdy, friend!”

“Hello Flowey.”

You weren’t really friends. You didn’t know why he insisted on saying that when the crude flower was more of an acquaintance. You knew he certainly didn't consider you a friend.

Sure, Flowey scared the hell out of you initially and you had felt overly suspicious. Really, no one got by with a disarming, red herring name like _Flowey the Flower_. But Flowey never acted malicious and your guard slowly eased after the fourth visit. He held an impressive amount of sarcastic quips within his little body though. You appreciated that. It appealed to your better nature.

Over the past few weeks, his company was starting to become a daily occurrence that you enjoyed. You and Flowey would simply sit around and chat for a while whenever he deigned to appear. The conversations were often comprised of you asking questions and Flowey replying with some snide remark. You learned very quickly that asking a question too personal resulted in you being immediately stonewalled by vague answers or he’d simply leave altogether for the day.

At times that you felt as if the flower was hiding things from you. Although interesting, you scrunched down your passing curiosity and reminded yourself that you weren’t at liberty to press for answers. Not when you were never a forthcoming person yourself.

An hour lapsed into two. You weren’t one to relax often, always moving to do something, but it felt nice to slow down once in a while. Your robes billowed in the warm breeze as you sat on the dusty ground near the flowerbed, enjoying the moment as the scorching day began to descend into freezing night, leaving a brief twilight hour where everything was still and peaceful. The stars should’ve begun to peek out of the sky now, emboldened by the slow descent of the sun.

Sighing, you gathered yourself and stood. It was almost time to return for your evening lesson.

“Hey.”

“Yeah?” you said, after a minute of oblivious silence.

“Do you really like it in the Ruins?”

“It’s fine.” You frowned, eyeing the flower out of the corner of your sight. “I mean I’ve been in the Underground for nearly eight months. I kind of had to get used to it.”

He smiled, “Say. What if I told you... I knew some way to get out of the Ruins?”

…What.

You could only stare with narrowed eyes, ambivalent about what you were hearing.

Flowey poked his tongue out, grinning as he wiggled his leaves thoughtfully. “You still want to know how to go back ‘home’, right?”

You don't trust this.

Oh, an exit sounded perfectly nice to you, but you don't trust it. Too conveniently handed to you, too good to be true. Maybe you're just jaded because you spent months with no luck and had trouble fathoming a flower as your ticket out. And if that _was_ the case, then why the hell had he never said anything about this before? He _knew_ about your desire to leave, even accompanied you on your excursions throughout the ruins when he claimed was bored and had nothing better to do.

“You’ve been down to Toriel’s basement before. Bet you’ve wondered why she seems so protective over it.” Flowey said, cutting you off as you opened your mouth to speak. “See, if you go down there it is really the end of the Ruins…An exit to the rest of the Underground.”

That would make sense. The monster was always avoidant whenever the topic of the basement came up, but one night you had followed her downstairs and watched as she rattled off knock knock jokes. You’d thought that she wanted to keep her interactions with the voice on the other side of the door to herself, thinking the door simply led to another section of the Ruins. But that was the fucking _exit_ to this place and she knowingly kept you in dark.

Let that be a lesson to never follow assumptions.

Your glare shifted to Flowey’s pleased face. “Why would you wait until now to tell me this?”

“I was wondering whether you’d figure it out on your own, but clearly you weren’t smart enough for that.” His grin widened into something less than friendly. “Or maybe you are and this is just a consequence of trusting her too much. After all, if you hadn’t you could’ve been out of the Ruins the moment you were healed from that fall. But hey! Here's your opportunity to see if you can’t get to the Surface! So here's the idea, buddy. You use that exit, get through it, and... well... In the meantime...Well, I’d recommend dressing warm.” He giggled and his stem quivered. A sign it was about to retract into the ground.

“See you on the other side, friend.”

* * *

You stared at the page in front of you, unable to dredge up the willpower to focus on the lines of text and organize the translations into something cohesive in your head.

You sighed quietly and stole a look at Frisk, finishing up their homework where they sat opposite to you at the table. They weren’t a fan of homework but their adoration of Toriel helped in adjusting to Toriel’s strict curriculum. You yourself weren’t happy with being involved in the set up either but it was the only way you could properly learn about reading and magic in any capacity.

While far and few between, you understood encounters well enough to safely navigate your way out of them. As expected, no magic of your own. Your soul was a complete mystery to you though. According to Toriel human souls were color coded, but her refusal, and frankly, inability to fully pull it out of you left you scratching your head.

Within six months, you managed to have the barest of reading basics down and could crawl your way through a book provided you had several others open to refer to as you read. If anyone were to walk in on such a sight you supposed it would be rather disconcerting: a girl with a large book on monster history laid out in front of her and various storybooks covering the floor that she was constantly flicking through. With all the practice, your reading ability was slowly but surely improving.

On most days, it wouldn’t be too hard. If you could bring yourself to focus.

As much as you tried, you couldn’t muster the same dedication to learning. Flowey words had essentially forced you to take off your rose tinted glasses in regards to Toriel and smash it underfoot.

Seated at the head of the table, the woman had noticed your flagging attention and cleared her throat softly. “Is something the matter?”

“Toriel…” Now that you knew, the knowledge continued to swarm around inside your skull like a hive of angry bees. ”I need to ask you something.”

“Well go ahead, dear.”

Honestly, you’re not sure if you wanted to keep talking or if you preferred the idea of keeping silent a little longer to sort out your feelings. Toriel had healed you, taken you into her home, and baked you pies. Before today you would have been inclined to agree with Frisk about her acting like a second mother to you both. But the fact she purposely lied by omission and was keeping you here couldn’t be ignored. Viewed with that in mind, you think that what she did actually fell under the umbrella of kidnapping.

Your mind simply couldn’t piece together it. Your view of Toriel, built up over months of living together, clashed with this new image of a monster that intended to leave you none the wiser and have you and Frisk permanently stay. This was _goat-mom_. She gave the best warm hugs, taught you about magic, and made awful jokes. It didn’t compute. It just didn’t.

You glanced over at Frisk. They had looked up, eyes questioning as they moved between you and Toriel.

That was another element to this mess.

Did you really want to bring this up in front of them?

No. Not really, but the decision to leave and the ensuing conversation involved them. It couldn’t be put off any longer either. Too much of that had been done already. When you thought about it, hadn’t that been what Toriel was doing all along?

“I heard something very interesting today. It’s about your _basement_. And that there’s an exit down there.”

As you’re staring at her you didn't miss the split second where her form stilled and then forcibly relaxed immediately. You anticipated it, a part of you almost wishing it wasn’t true, but it stung all the same as she held your gaze. You pushed forward, eyes narrowed to slits. “So they were right then.”

“I know you still wish to leave the Ruins," she started, her voice careful and measured. “But you cannot. It’s too dangerous.”

“Why?” you asked. “Why would you… For so long you _knew_. Frisk can’t live down here with just the two of us. We have a mother, father. Brother, sister, friends, people we know. I was desperate to find a way out after I fell in. And you just nodded along and watched, happy to let me struggle all the while making the conscious choice to keep us here with you.”

 _“I don’t think that's really a fair thing to say,”_ Frisk piped up. The pencil they were holding left abandoned by the last of their homework.

“I think it’s perfectly fair.” You said, shaking your head.

_“Maybe she just wanted company. You and I both know Toriel is lonely by herself.”_

“So we should give up our lives altogether and die down here for that? I think we’ve overstayed our welcome.” You’re trying to keep your voice level as it was, your anger winding up. Your hands balled into fists in your lap and you turned back to Toriel. “We’re not your children. What gives you the right to take away our autonomy and decide that for us? To keep us away from our friends and family?”

No reply. There was nothing she could think of to say that could justify her actions. A bullshit excuse would have been better than the nothing she was currently giving you.

For some reason, the silence hurt more.

“That’s what I thought. We can’t stay. We need to go home.”

“G-go home? What? This... this is your home now,” she said. Too little, too late.

“No, Toriel. It isn’t.”

You glowered as she struggled to find her words and faltered, expression falling into one of pained pleading and heartbroken sadness. “You don’t understand.”

“Make us understand then.”

“They… It's not safe for you two out there alone beyond that door. You will die! I am only protecting you!”

“Then come with us!” You stood and slammed the book in front you shut. It closed with a bang, the table trembling at the force.

Toriel and Frisk both startled.

_“Sis?”_

“If you’re so worried about that,” you snapped. “then do something about it instead of imprisoning us and telling us it’s for the best!”

She opened her mouth to answer, but then paused as she comprehended what she heard.

For a long moment no one moved. Everyone knew what happened from then on would depend solely on her answer. Her eyes flitted between you and Frisk, desperately hopeful. You stared back defiantly. Frisk reached across the table and their small hands slipped into hers, the much larger, bristling pair curled around theirs as their eyes searched hers. For one fleeting moment you thought maybe, just maybe, you got through to her.

She deflated. “I cannot leave.”

Your heart stuttered.

Any chance you had of staying with the monster died then.

You reaffirmed your earlier statement. “We can’t stay.” Hearing it aloud made your decision more real, more permanent. You slumped back into your chair, elbows on the tall table and hands cradling your head. You’re just emotionally overwhelmed and drained at this point – Flowey and now this. “We’d only be hurting each other in the long run. Even if we did, how am I supposed to put my trust in you anymore?”

With that said, some of the tension in you simply melted away. As if a part of you had given up on her, already grieving the loss of her kind words and warmth. “I’m sorry Toriel.”

“…I’m sorry too.”

Toriel excused herself shortly afterwards, retreating into her room for the rest of the night. The unshed tears glistening in those blank burgundy eyes would be forever burned into your mind. All this pain just to bring you back to where you belonged.

You can't think about that now.

You couldn’t lie. You would miss this place. Kermit, Toriel, all the new memories woven in this underground cavern. Your heart would always remember their friendly faces. But you had one thing to focus on now.

The Surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops. Keeping schedules and rolling out chapters are tough. I still want to stick to the idea of two per week. But soon I can start wrecking lives. Mostly reader's.  
> ...I mean, what can possibly go wrong?


	7. Flash Point

_“The loneliest moment in someone's life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly.”_  
― F. Scott Fitzgerald

* * *

Steam fogged the room, a thick layer of condensation covering everything. The walls, the floor, the stool you stood on. You wiped clear a space on the mirror over the sink and crinkled your nose at the face staring back.

The person was familiar. The face and eyes, the hair, if not somewhat longer. It overall remained identical to how you looked on the surface— yet the sight invoked a surreal feeling inside you. One that sat uncomfortably in the pit of your gut alongside your soul. You leaned forward, pressing your forehead against your reflection.

It’s not your appearance itself causing it. You had always felt utterly generic and falling into a pit hadn’t altered that outlook on yourself. And it’s not as if you had shed your human attributes and wore the mask of some hideous creature. Not like you were out to impress anyone, or that it mattered in the world of monsters where the people varied incredibly from one to the next. Appearance pretty much always came secondary; a side note to things they considered more important.

It was a small comfort, to hear you wouldn’t be judged for being too big, too thin, or if not quite fitting into the perfect unattainable ideal of beauty your society had crafted on the surface.

No, you thought the feeling had to do with your reflection drawing up a comparison. One between the you in the Underground and how you remembered yourself on the surface. A certain dissonance rang from the clashing memories.

You turned away. Your good hand lowered and gripped the other. It’s silly, but you’re starting to not feel like yourself without the crisp white bandages shielding the length of your hand, and after drying off it was the first thing you put on. It’s juvenile to even think a small piece of cloth could lay claim to a part of your identity. Juvenile or not, you felt better with it tied around your hand.

Ugh, you really wanted a nap.

Instead, you went over multiple plans in your head as you slipped on clothes. Flowey said to dress warm. Grabbing your favorite white turtleneck sweater, you pulled it over your head and took a moment to sink into the warm fabric. The scent of cinnamon and bonfire filled your nose. You sighed wearily, drawing your plain purple robe over your head. The plans continued to get more elaborate and ridiculous as you mentally categorized them into a list from the most practical to the impossible.

Drenched in blood, your tattered shirt had been beyond saving. But Toriel was surprisingly good at removing bloodstains, and the jeans were salvaged. If you hadn’t bleed on them yourself, then you’d never have guessed a drop of red ever stained the dark blue surface. It was a well-loved thing, with a kind of thin softness that only aged fabric could attest to. You had only worn it once since you started living with Toriel, but the sense of familiarity was almost staggering. It was…nice, and it grounded you that much more despite the difficult task you were about to undertake.

Pale steam clouds dissipated as they mingled with the cooler air as you pushed open the door and stepped out. You stood in the hallway, feeling the prickle of goosebumps on your drying skin. No one was in the living room.

You had no idea what to do now.

For all your inner want for a nap or to simply be alone, you realized that alone was the last thing that you wanted.

The smell of something wafted into your nose. Without further delay, you followed the scent to the other end of the house. Toriel had left the oven on during your evening lesson, hadn’t she? But what you found was a familiar sight. An abundance of food was on the counters. Carrots, apples, stalks of typha. On the stove dwindling clouds of steam floated off the pie, removed before it could start to burn and left to air out into the room. Two human sized pie slices sat in the center of it all.

The back of your eyes burned and you blinked them furiously to chase away the sting. There was a fresh heaviness in your heart.

Silently, you opened the fridge with a quiet creak and set about putting away the remaining ingredients in every nook and cranny you could fit. Toriel…probably wasn’t going to eat any of the pie tonight. It’d be better if you set it aside for her tomorrow. Possibly yourself and Frisk.

You weren’t going to live with Toriel anymore, that you were certain of. You doubt you’d ever feel truly safe, knowing an unknown amount of monsters wanted to hurt you just beyond that basement door. But…couldn’t you stay one more day? You didn’t want to put it off and make it harder for everyone but Toriel deserved time to properly digest your decision and to say goodbye.

You struggled to fit some ingredients for cinnamon buns beneath the remaining pie from today.

What would you do once you made it out of the Ruins? It couldn't possibly get easier after that. That's just not how it worked.

Finished, your breathing wavered and you quickly walked back out into the family room, striding down the hallway again. You creaked open the door to the room you shared with Frisk, but saw nothing in the darkened room.

Panicking momentarily that they might actually have tried to leave on their own, you scanned the seemingly empty space. But when your eyes finally found their quiet form in the darkness, you were hit with a memory so sharp you stopped in the doorway to suck in a breath.

Across the room, the old, handmade quilt was where it had been that morning, save for the body curled up underneath the bedding, taking up as little room as possible in the world. The bed wasn’t that large but they seemed too small in the center of it.

How many nights had you spent just like that in the past months? Balled up, trying to take up as little space at all, wishing the world would just sweep over and forget you were there. That the crushing truth wasn’t going to destroy you in the morning. And if not tomorrow, then certainly the next.

Padding across the room, you gingerly sat down beside them and pulled the edge of the blanket back, found their shoulder and gave it a gentle shake. They turned and looked back at you, blinking. You could just make out their face in the darkness.

You had moved so intently you had forgotten to prepare words. You cleared your throat. “Are you okay?”

They sat up and shook their head no. Their eyes were focused unblinkingly at you, shining with something you couldn’t name.

“Why? Are you afraid of leaving?”

Another no.

“Is this about Toriel?”

Their lip wobbled dangerously and their head drooped. They bunched the hem of their shirt between their hands, the colors almost black in the dim light.

A minute passed in silence.

“It’s…” Your throat closed on you. You swallowed and started again, glad for the darkness. “It’s going to be alright. We’re not saying goodbye to her forever.” You found their hand and held it tight. You hoped it was reassuring.

They scooted closer, forehead coming to rest against your shoulder. You could just make out their other hand shakily forming words. _“Sometimes I’m scared you’ll both be gone. That one I’m going to be alone down here.”_

Your breath caught in your throat.

“I would never leave you.” Conviction and grief colored your words. “God, that’s one thing I’m certain of down here. I’d drag myself out of death to come back to you, you hear me? I’m never leaving you.”

_“But what if you change your mind someday? Then you wouldn’t love me anymore.”_

You’re appalled. “Frisk. You are the most important thing to me. You come first above everyone else and no matter what happens I couldn’t stop loving you.” The words rolled off your tongue with firm certainty, a fact as obvious as the sun being hot. An absolute law of the universe that couldn’t be altered. You loved them. Nothing would change that.

Fiercely, they gripped your hand back. _“What if do something terrible and I hurt you or someone else?”_

“You might do some things that might hurt me but _nothing_ could make me stop loving you. And… It’s alright. Remember what I said? It’s impossible to go your whole life without doing hurting people, whether you’re aware of it or not. You…just have to be strong enough to pick yourself back up and make amends for it.

Frisk choked out a sound, something that fell between a sob and a hiccup, but they didn’t cry.

You both sat silently, not able to say anything else, but not wanting to leave the other’s side either. After sitting for what felt like ages, emotions and reasoning unwinding, you repeated to them softly, “I would never leave you.” The loss of drive left only exhaustion in its wake.

 _“Ok,”_ was their tired reply.

After laying in bed for a couple hours, you had gotten up and fixed a pan of hot chocolate, partitioning it out into three servings. You left the largest mug on the counter. You handed Frisk’s off to them with their slice of pie. They ate like it was their last meal, almost inhaling the sweet goods. You tried not to dwell on that bit, turning your mind to Frisk’s attire instead. You’d peeled off their yellow-green shirt and swapped it out for their striped purple sweater, a red scarf wound loosely around their shoulders over the fleece jacket perhaps two sizes too large.

They had pouted a little but then went back to munching on the last of the pie. There was a gleam in their eyes that had you guessing they were pleased, though admittedly it was hard to tell with Frisk.

A sharp set of two knocks on the wall grabbed your attention. You looked up from the pile of stuff scattered across the bed, which you'd spent the last ten minutes or so clumsily shifting around into separate groups of necessities and unneeded things that would bog down your knapsack.

Just because you could feel in that hand didn’t mean you could manage fine motor skills. You would be forced to relearn a lot of that eventually. Writing was out of the question, and even typing would be slow.

 _“Do you really think it’s okay for us to leave Toriel like this?”_ Frisk signed.

“No. I don't want to bring Toriel anymore grief,” you said faintly. “But we can't stay.”

They frowned, returning their gaze to the faded ribbon wound around their fingers. An artifact they’d found lost amongst the Ruins puzzles. You eyed them for a long moment then asked Frisk to bring you the hairbrush tossed onto the shelf before moving away from the bed and onto the floor.

Frisk returned with the brush and sat down facing you; You took the brush, bristles thick with brown hair and miniscule traces of white fur. "Frisk, is it okay if I put the ribbon in your hair? Or did you want it somewhere else?"

Technically, it was for their hair, but you thought you'd let them decide. When they nodded, you motioned for them to turn around and they complied.

You ran the brush through their bobbed hair a couple times, making sure it was free of tangles, and they leaned ever so slightly into your touch. You set the brush down and ran your fingers through their brown locks, taking a moment to decide how you wanted to do this; you gathered the hair framing either side of their face, and after a moment of recalling the way it was done, you released the left side. Parting the remaining bundle of hair, you began twisting both parts forward until they met in the middle and then braided them together. You twined a few stray strands on the end in a knot to ensure it would stay before tying the red ribbon over it into a bow.

It was simple enough, and now they had a nice way to keep their hair down without it getting in that side of their face, though you were uncertain they cared either way. Frisk’s hair was getting longer than the length they normally kept it at, brushing their shoulders, so you were able to show them the bow easily. They touched it lightly, and then turned to you with the faintest smile you'd ever seen; still it was enough to light up their face and you smiled back.

Everything would be okay. It had to be.

* * *

A door. A perfectly carved, elegant, white, pristine door. A piece of wood that you could break if you applied enough force. The only thing that stood between you and her.

Just a goddamn door.

It was what you had told yourself over and over again, for the past fifteen minutes, as you stood just outside her door. It was the very line you told yourself an hour ago, and the hour before that as you tried to muster the courage and bring your hand up to knock. It was the same line you used every time you found yourself standing back in the exact same spot - unsure, wavering, hesitating - frustration building up because you hated to be those things. And yet here you were - hands sweating, gut wrenching - just because of a door.

It was just a door. You told yourself yet again, breathing deeply, and swallowing an imaginary lump in your throat. This time, you would knock.

The rap of your knuckles on the wood was met with a hollow silence.

You knocked again, this time gentler as you closed your eyes and drew in a steadying breath. She still made no movement to answer.

“Toriel…?” Your voice was soft, cautious. “You don't have to see me but if you're in there, could you let me know?”

You leaned your ear against the doorframe, carefully listening for a hint of a sound. After a few moments, you heard a light shuffle, and felt a wave of relief wash over you as you leaned your back against the door.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, training your eyes on the doorknob below you. “Listen, about how I acted… I… I'm really sorry. I was angry and I still can’t understand why you refuse to come with us but it’s not my place to push you for anything. If you want space, take all the time you need, okay? Pull yourself back together, then come see us when you feel comfortable around me again—if you can. We’re not leaving until we get to say goodbye.”

A rueful sigh escaped your lips as you glanced off to the side, holding your opposite arm. “But you know… I am glad about one thing. I'm glad we had someone like you watching out for us. With anyone else, who knows what could've happened, but you… took us in, and even after you were just trying to keep us happy, so I just wanted to say… thank you.”

“I thought I could finally… after all the others left me…”

You frowned, feeling a pang of guilt in your chest. She sounded so fragile, exhausted. Normally you would try to prop her back up and reassure her—but you couldn't right now, not with the way you were feeling. There was no way things could go back to the way it was before.

“You could still stay with me. We could…be like a family.”

You looked down, once again thinking over what the implications of such a life were. You liked Toriel, but surely you would go mad if you stayed here, never leaving or having any real interactions with anyone other then her, Frisk, or Kermit. “We could. We could be safe with you. But we’ve already gotten your hopes up too much. It’d never be real. We’d never be happy.”

"At least you'd be safe."

"Safe from what?" you pressed.

“Every human that falls down here meets the same fate. I have seen it again and again. They come. They leave. They die. You naive child... If you leave the ruins... They... _Asgore_... will kill you. I only kept you both here to protect you, do you understand?”

For a second you thought your heart had completely stopped.

You felt as if the wind had been knocked out of you, your eyes trailing to the ground as you tried to comprehend the facts. You would be all alone in a completely strange world with nothing but your words. Whoever this guy was, he wanted you dead... But... Why? Why did Asgore want humans dead so badly? Is this guy the reason the monsters had attacked you in the first place? Why? You didn't understand.

“Then what am I supposed to do?” A short rush of anger bled into with the terror that was squeezing your throat tight. “Are you saying we’re doomed to either be murdered out there or stay here and hide from the outside with you until we die of old age? You don’t get it! We... We have to at least be able to choose! It's our life. It's our choice. I chose to make sure Frisk gets to the Surface, and you made the choice to stay here. We can’t stay! We…we just can’t…”

Your face fell in your hands for a few seconds and you tried to even out your unsteady breathing.

“I don’t even know how many times you’ve gone through this.” Your voice cracked. “How many you’ve tried to protect and have failed. It’s like we’re destined to die too, no matter what you do. That’s what scares me the most. I’m going to _die_.”

The words were practically squeezed from your mouth. They hung in the air in front of you, bold and daunting. Because that's all that was waiting for you down this road, staring death in the face. It had been there when you discovered that hole in the earth, laughing when you fell in, leering when you had come to amidst the flowers, hovering when you had learned of the fact others had fallen before you and glaring when you would go on to face the rest of the Underground head on.

Staying with Toriel was...the lesser of two evils, you begrudgingly admitted to yourself.

“But I’m still going to try,” you said with a finality you didn’t feel.

The door creaked as you leaned your weight off the doorframe. Beside you steam lazily curled into the air, drifting from the mug and pie slice you’d set outside her door.

“You do not know what you’re getting yourself into.” It felt like she was giving you a final warning.

Silently, you promised her to bring Frisk back. If Toriel was right, if you couldn’t find a way up past the barrier, then you’d ensure Frisk made it back to her even if you didn’t. Better that they were alive than dead.

“I'm really sorry about all this, Toriel. I hope you can forgive me but I need to try.”

The smile hurt your face.

* * *

Packing the rest of your things into your bag was a short affair. You threw extra bandages—just in case—into the front pockets, extra water bottles and clothes into the main pouch, your laptop (not that’d it’d seen much use as of late) into the middle nook, and emergency gold into the inside zipper. There was probably some distance to walk so you did your best to pack light.

Buttoning the bag shut, you tossed it onto your back and tightened the straps so that the bag hung comfortably against the small of your back. The quilt was next object of your attention as you took your time to smooth them out.

Your hand hesitated above a dip in the covers, a flash of gold visible in them. You picked it up and the locket Frisk had found dangled from your fingers. It wasn’t out of place per se. You assumed maybe it had belonged to one of the previous occupants of the room. You’d never truly taken a look at it, deeming it too unimportant. But now, with your full attention locked to it, the accessory was just mildly disconcerting and made shivers run up your spine.

A flash of familiarity blazed through your mind and your chest tightened _. Where have I seen this before? Why do I recognize it?_

Your eyes scoured the locket, the niggly thought of recognition worming to the forefront of your mind. Your thumb brushed over the words engraved in it.

Best Friends Forever.

Who’s was this? Why did you have some recollection of it?

You had no idea. Any attempts at figuring it out drew up a scarily blank spot in your mind.

Shaking your head, you slipped it into the right pocket of your robes, resolving to try again at a later date. Nothing stirred as you returned to the hallway. The house was quiet.

Not for the first time, it hit you just how eerie it was how little was audible down here. No birdsong in the rustling trees, no annoying hum of insects in the waving grass, no thrum of rain as it beat against the earth. A sense of wrongness settled in your stomach.

In the deafening silence, your breathing and heartbeat was too loud. It disturbed the heavy, stagnant air that tasted like dust on your tongue, almost thrumming with that fuzz of static discharge, wrapping tight around you and seeping into your pores.

The thick smell of bonfire and burning charcoal tickled your nose, hot and sharp on the intake, chilled and minted like pines on the out.

The house was quiet.

Your muscles tensed as the realization broke through your still dread.

Where was Frisk?

You moved slowly at first, then jogging, running. A burst of adrenaline clinging to you pushed you towards the basement and you barely stopped yourself from stumbling down the stairs, following the sounds of the shouting and faint spoken words. The stone brick of the walls and floor emanated a faint purple glow, smoothing out the contours of all the objects it lit. Everything looked weirdly flat in this lighting. After only a minute that felt so much longer with the things swirling around in your mind, you spotted purple and blue in the middle of the corridor with relief you'd never looked upon stripes with.

You fell into a jogging pace, gulping down air into your burning lungs and trying to catch a glimpse of your caretaker.

“Toriel!”

You froze at your sibling’s rare use of their verbal words, seeing the reason for the panic you'd never heard in their voice before almost immediately. _Stupid,_ you cursed in the back of your mind, _you should've ignored your bleeding heart and left. Should've trusted your gut instinct. Should've known._

It didn't matter what you said, what you did. Something was going to get in the way of your bid for the Surface. You knew it wouldn’t have been easy, barrier aside. So it shouldn't have been surprising at all to see the arched double door, taller then three Toriels stacked on top of one another, blocked by Toriel herself.

Toriel whose gaze had darted towards you, embers of brilliant white fire dancing off her fingertips.

Her eyes were narrowed, a sliver of regret shimmering underneath the odd detachment. An analytical spark was there too as she swept her gaze over you and Frisk, holding her stare at the singed clothing of your sibling and noting the gaping betrayal painting your faces.

The regret became sharper.

Your gaze darted to Frisk who had backed away from Toriel, their back pressed against your torso. Physically they looked right as rain, save a few bumps and scrapes. And the obvious fire. “So what, _this_ is your solution? Put us out of our misery before Asgore can get to us?!”

Toriel drew herself up to her full height, her body casting a long shadow on you and Frisk as it danced in the firelight. The mahogany of her eyes glimmered with a fiery glow. "This is the end of the Ruins.” Her voice was lacking, yet carried the weight of someone who’d been through this again and again. “A one-way exit to the rest of the Underground. I am going to destroy it. Nobody will ever be able to leave again."

You felt your mouth go dry. “What the hell, Toriel?”

One-way. Why did it have to be one-way? Your shoulders shook as you struggled to form words, wondered what you were supposed to do. Was there anything you could even say? Anything at all?

Toriel spoke again before you found the answer to such questions, “Please go back upstairs, the both of you. This is your final warning.”

One-way. No turning back. Her eyes were harsh and cold despite the flames alight, sending a shiver down your spine. You weren't sure if you wanted to laugh hysterically or cry. How could this be the same monster you’d lived with the past?

The air felt heavy. You didn’t know if it was just you, the magic burning off Toriel, or if descending being deeper in the earth had this effect on people. The room was truly freezing, going so far as to smell like crisp winter. Your own breath was visible in front of your face. But then, a burst of indignant anger seared through you. The sudden intense wave of emotion warmed you from the inside out as your own eyes narrowed to slits. _How dare she do this to you?_

Maybe for one second, you entertained the thought that you’d bring Frisk back upstairs and everything could go back to normal... Or as normal as this could possible get. But... you’d have to live with knowing your only chance to leave the Ruins was shattered before you, and that you just gave up. You refused that fate. Toriel truly left you no choice in the matter.

You had to try. You had to _act_.

If you didn't, you might as well have already died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is the final chapter of the Ruins and then boi we are going to have some fun times.


	8. Remedy

_“To kill a bull by straightening its horns.”_  
― Japanese Proverb

* * *

“You want to leave so badly?” You couldn't help but hear the betrayal in her tone.

“We  _have_  to leave, Toriel. Let us  _go._ ”

Barely noticeably, she shook. “Hmph. You are just like the others. There is only one solution to this.” The room seemed to grow darker with the situation. “Prove yourself... Prove to me that you can survive.”

Suffocating as always, the feeling of magic hooking into your soul drew forth an unnoticed wince. The uncomfortable, disorienting tension of your soul pushing to the surface, as if it was trying to repel itself from your body, rooted itself firmly into your bones. The glowing light of your soul underneath your robes and Frisk’s brilliant red soul on the front of their jacket suddenly overwhelmed your sight. You’re here. You’re elsewhere.

In the monochromatic color scheme overlaying the world, the bright white outline of Toriel’s body was the only other thing you could make out. The look on her face was serious.

You shed your bag onto the floor—it would only slow you down—and felt your hand start to reach towards your knife. You needed to get past her. She was blocking the exit. She was blocking the way to the surface. You needed to get past Toriel, using whatever method necessary. You should. You needed to protect yourself and Frisk.

But... Toriel wouldn't hurt you or your sibling... would she?

You pulled your hand away from your pocket. You weren’t going to harm Toriel... You wouldn't fight. Maybe if you could talk to convince Toriel. Get her to understand that they needed to try to get to the surface... Even if the exit was the only one-way... Even if this... Asgore... killed you-

You didn't want to linger on it anymore. You needed to convince Toriel to let you pass.

You opened your mouth, trying to think of something to say, but no ideas sprung to mind. You were drawing a blank. A hideous blank. You felt like stabbing your own brain for failing on you at such a crucial moment. There was just nothing you could say.

Frisk ran forward, taking you and seemingly the monster for surprise as they grabbed onto her robe. Your hand that had reached out after them hung in the air, the same dilemma you faced yourself written all over their face.

Toriel’s composure wavered. Something seemed to shatter inside her then, her face falling as her hesitation peeked through the cracks. It lasted for but a moment before she pulled herself together with purpose and reared back her hand. Your eyes widened but Frisk only squeezed theirs shut, not moving from the spot.

The smack reverberated throughout the room as they backpedaled from where they were standing.

You both just stood there for several seconds, processing the fact that Toriel actually... hurt them. Frisk then gently raised their hand to their cheek. Already you could see it dusted red from just the stinging sensation alone. The moment of weakness, too, did not last long for Frisk as they took several steps forward, hands clenched into fists, determined to not back down. Whatever internal conflict they’d been wrestling with was no longer apparent. They knew as well as you did that they needed to press on.

With a flick of the wrist sparks breathed, lighting the purple concrete at Toriel’s feet before everything came alive in a wave of overwhelming heat.

You’d seen fire, you’d seen candles and cook-fires, roasted marshmallows in fireplaces and the little displays Toriel demonstrated, and none of it had looked anything like this. It was huge – the room seeming to melt into nothing more than white flames and dust, and it was free. That was the word you thought of when you saw it, free. All the other fires you’d seen had been tamed or caught or so small like a match they were nothing compared to what you were seeing. The cold felt like a distant, hazy memory.

And you were in the middle of it all.

Toriel still looked emotionless.

The first few attacks were simple enough to sidestep, you and Frisk easily avoiding the trickling puffs of fire, but they quickly hastened in speed and number. The attacks soon manifested into larger fireballs, swimming through the air in arcs. You found yourself having a more difficult time dodging the pattern in her attacks, heat tickling your skin as the distance between them grew shorter and shorter. Sometimes it sucked being a large target.

It was why it was all the more surprising to you when Frisk was the one to take a hit first. Toriel had changed the pattern of her attack and causing them to misstep. They were knocked back onto the smooth ground, landing harshly on their back. They curled in on themself slightly, their hands grabbing at their shirt. You started towards them but Frisk shook their head softly, pushing themself back up onto shaky legs.

“What are you doing?” Toriel whispered to herself, conjuring up more fireballs in her palm. Shoulders tense, the monster was struggling to hold her emotionless gaze. Cracks of unease and distress seeped between the creases in her eyes. Her mouth twitched slightly, wanting to pull itself into a frown. “Attack or run away!”

You managed to dodge the incoming wave of fireballs focused primarily on you by diving to the left, but the tail end of one managed to nick your leg.

Humans were fragile beings, magic didn't fade through them and hit their SOUL, it instead went through all the fleshy bits. It hurt. The heat was light at first, like passing a finger over a candle, but it quickly turned into a searing ache in your soul. You stumbled forward, grabbing onto your shirt as your injured leg throbbed.

Toriel paused but took a deep breath, preparing a magical attack. “What are you proving this way?”

“What are _you_ proving?” You bit out as you dodged another few fireballs tossed forward. Frisk ducked underneath them, then rolled to the side. She switched tactics a second time. You stepped between the gaps of the fire. They flew past you, only to bounce off the wall and nail you in the back. Another grazed your arm. You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing yourself to stagger out of the way of the rest.

“Fight me or leave!” Toriel's arm waved again, sending a row of fire shooting forwards across the left side of the room. Frisk jumped, this time to the right.

Wrong choice.

The bulk of the fireballs suddenly looped around that area. On instinct, your arm snapped out and snagged their arm, wrenching them aside. You’d thrown them with such speed and power you didn't have time to even be surprised at yourself before the fire collided with you, a blinding flash of white-hot pain ripping a strangled gasp from your throat. Someone shouted your name, probably Frisk, but you barely heard it through the agony as you were thrown forward.

The same burning sting coursed through your blood as you landed on your side, your own pulse sending a new wave of pain with each heartbeat. Your throat constricted, smoke and fire coming alive inside you. Every inch of your skin seemed to be covered in flames, yet you did not cry out from it. Within moments it fizzled out into pale smoke, the damage done.

You laid there for several seconds, feeling as if your body wanted to just stop functioning all together. It felt as if death itself just sucker punched you. Faintly you were aware of the presence beside you and small hands shaking your shoulders, careful to avoid the worst of the injuries. Frisk. A few new scrapes dotted their skin from the fall.

_But they were okay._

In your blurred vision, you saw Toriel holding her paw over her mouth in shock.

 _‘Good,’_ you thought through the heavy beats of your heart echoing in your ears. You wanted her to see what she was doing.

You gritted your teeth and pushed yourself back up. Frisk leaned into your side, eyes searching for any sign of you collapsing. You stumbled forward slightly but your own balance and a hand grabbing onto your arm stopped you from falling.

Toriel struggled, her fingers curling into her palms. “Run away or fight!" She demanded, her voice cracking.

Frisk shook their head, refusing to attack or back down. You tried to do the same only to regret it, hot pain from Toriel's previous attacks spiking through you and hindering your movements. Small fingers clutched your robe, drawing your eyes to your side. A small smile spread across Frisk’s soot-dusted face, not quite pulling attention away from the glistening drops of water pricking the corner of their eyes. Your shoulders sagged as you returned it.

Toriel threw more attacks in your direction. Frisk shut their eyes, tears slipping down their face as they braced for impact.

But the pain never came. Fireballs flew past you both, just barely scraping past your skin and dissipating along the brick. You winced at the heat, combined with the burns it felt like your skin was bubbling. But Toriel wasn't hurting you. You tried to keep your breathing even as your gaze settled on Toriel. You tried to seem defiant. Angry. But in the end, you looked as pained as she did.

“Stop it. Stop looking at me that way.”

Supported by Frisk, you took several steps forward. Toriel kept flinging waves of fire, all of them close enough to singe off some of the hairs on your head, but none of them hit directly. You and Frisk kept moving. More and more fireballs. One after the other. You felt like your organs were baking under all the heat.

You stood in front of Toriel, but she refused to look down. She just kept firing blast after blast, but none of them hit—even when you both were right in perfect range. The room smelt of ash and brimstone. The ground itself burned, destroying any semblance of life that might have had a chance of growing. Frisk squeezed their eyes shut, sweat beading across their brow. You blinked away the droplets that threatened to fall into your eyes.

Toriel didn't want to end the humans she’d taken in, and neither of you weren't going to hurt Toriel.

Your legs crossed across the sliver of distance remaining, arms encircling her midsection and pulling her forward into a tight embrace. Toriel minutely stiffened, her hand recoiling back to her person.

A beat of silence, a brief clacking of shoes, then—thump. Frisk had thrown themself into the mix, holding on tightly as though the second they let go the both of you would vanish. Burying their face into her stomach, they tried to mask the large, rolling tears falling down their chin.

The prepared fireball cradled in Toriel’s palm flickered out of life, the room dimming until it was cast into near darkness. “I know you want to go home, but...Please. Stay here. Go up back upstairs.”

“Please,” You almost mimicked. “Let. Us. Go.”

“I've seen "this fate" again and again. Please, let me finish this now. This is the best way for us. I promise I will take good care of you here.”

Her entire frame shuddered in your arms with the effort of holding back tears. Still, you felt water lightly dripping onto your hair. An almost tangible air of despair hung around her. Frisk softly apologized.

“Not again.” She begged as her paws raised to wipe away her own tears. “You don't know what awaits beyond the door. The terrible cold that freezes your insides. Rain so cold it steals your warmth. Heat so strong it bakes your body... You don't need to suffer any of this. I don't want to fail you anymore. Please, let me end it here. Forget about the world outside.”

“You already know that isn't possible,” you murmured, refusing to look her in the eye.

Her arms slackened, then encompassed the both of you. “Why are you... Making this so difficult? This was your new home, where I could protect you. Where I could always be here with you two...Why? Why you want to leave, so badly...?”

Frisk softly apologized again, rubbing their head into Toriel's robe. As still as you tried to remain your voice wavered, begging forgiveness. “We’re not trying to hurt you, Toriel. But I don’t think you’d understand.”

Shaking her head, she drew back and chuckled softly a second later between her mostly silent sobs. A hollow sound void of humor and filled with disappointment at oneself. "Pathetic... Is it not? I cannot save even a single child.”

With that, the encounter ended. The empty sensation of duality faded and awareness of your soul buzzing throughout your body receded to the back of your senses. As soon as you could see the world as you normally did in color again, the throbbing of your head and body settled in. Tired. You felt it pulling at your limbs, threatening to drag you deeper into the earth as your system slowly emptied of the adrenaline that’d been pushing you forward.

Toriel bent down on one knee so that she was on equal level with you two, resting one hand on each of your shoulders. “No, I understand. You are unhappy here. The ruins are small, and it would not be right for you to grow up down here.” Toriel looked down at the ground. “My expectations... My loneliness... My fears... For you two... I will put them aside. If you truly with to leave the Ruins... I will not stop you.”

The monster moved her hands onto your chests. A sudden warmth filled your body as green wisps escaped into your soul, the burning throughout your body dulling and instead being replaced with the soothing feeling of her healing. Frisk breathed out a sigh of relief as the pain left their body. There still was the slightest bit of what felt to be light bruising on your leg, but nothing major that wouldn't heal within a few days on its own.

Her weary, defeated gaze rose to observe the two of you for possibly the last time. “However, when you leave. Please do not come back. I hope you understand.”

Pain separate to your burns welled up inside you, stinging at your nerves. You blinked back the liquid threatening to spill over their barriers. Despite your best efforts to hold back the tears, one managed to get free, running down your cheek and leaving a wet trail. Toriel couldn’t help but let out a small sigh at the same time she lifted a hand to wipe the stray tear from your cheek with one of her thumbs.

Your breath caught in your throat.

A whole afternoon of frustration, of guilt and doubt, was wiped away with a single touch. You savored the loving gesture, as misguided as it is. Lulled into a sense of security by the comforting warmth she emitted, you subconsciously leaned into her touch. What you agonized over, showing concern, opening yourself up even a fraction, she gave to you freely.

You told yourself you didn’t need give her even more genuine cause for concern besides the frankly worrisome things she’d outlined already. That you needed to be stronger than this, like the moment you decided to focus on Frisk and Frisk alone. You were lying to yourself.

But truth was clear now. This situation was neither of their faults, and you told yourself you wouldn’t let it come between them. The connection you’d made to her, you knew you didn’t want to lose it.

“I get it Toriel.” Your calmer voice sounded soft and somewhat subdued. A stark contrast to the deep seated heartache burning in your chest. “Still, I hope this isn’t that last time we see you. After all I’m pretty determined to get killed off. Dying isn’t even an option for Frisk. We’re going to make it, then we can really prove to you that everything will work out somehow. Then Frisk can finally stop petitioning for us to adopt you into the family when we’re all on the surface.”

Frisk was torn between turning on you in indignation for ratting out their plan and proving once more that it was an amazing idea. In the end they simply nodded and leaned into the monster for another hug. Toriel ducked her head and murmured reassurances into their hair, eyes glossy with a fresh wave of unshed tears. “Ha…We shall see. I can only hope for the best.”

Too soon she withdrew her hand, her fur coming away darker with soot, and stood up. Not daring to look either of you in the eyes, looking straight ahead, Toriel rubbed Frisk's head affectionately and walked past the both of you. A few feet away, she paused.

“Stay safe, the both of you. Goodbye.” Toriel then walked on down the hall, eventually turning the corner. The sound of her footsteps slowly drifted off until it’s just you and Frisk standing alone.

The world was disarmingly quiet, silence growing heavier with finality. The room felt so cold. So empty. The odd mixture of the scent of pine, charcoal and pie mixed together and intertwined in some sort of dance.

There was no turning back.

You struggled to sit down, downcast. Your healed soul needed time to breathe. Frisk knelt beside you and squeezed their eyes shut as you wrapped your arms around them, rubbing their palms into their face until the tears stopped threatening to form.

You sat there for a long moment, staring at the brick walls while your brain attempted to piece itself back together. A thin, arid smoke cloaked the air, washing all the color from the room, and drenching the shadows a shade darker. The door you’d fought to get to edged the corner of your vision. The size was much more intimidating than you’d like to admit. Its strange and flowing design wrapped around the door and kept the frame in a choke hold.

Was it a one-way like Toriel claimed? Or perhaps she said that only due to her request to never return if you left.

You glanced up at the ceiling, hoping silently for one minute a part of the mountain would cave in. That it would somehow enable you to climb out and not have to deal with any more of this... insanity. What human ever had to deal with this?

You tried to push the creeping thoughts of the humans who came before and the sheer weight of the situation bearing down on you aside, but found it impossible. Now was the least appropriate moment to slip into a downward spiral of disparaging thoughts and waste time crawling back out of it. Time better spent preparing yourself both mentally and physically for the outside wor-... er... the outside of the Ruins.

Toriel wasn't going to be around anymore. But you’d been on your own before, Toriel was just... temporary protection. Someone to help you adjust to the underground. You could only trust yourself, so you needed to protect Frisk, using whatever means necessary.

Out of the corner of your eye, something moved. You turned, catching the end of a bright yellow petal melting into the ground between the arch of the hallway leading back.

Flowey.

When the flower didn't spontaneously reappear out from the earth, your attention moved back to Frisk. You watched the soft rise and fall of their shoulders, their fingers scrunching the front of their singed jacket, and wondered if they were ready to leave yet. Even though Frisk was determined to move forward with you, they seemed nervous about something. You didn’t have to wait long for an answer.

Sighing deeply, the child straightened and blinked a few times, then bit their lip while their bright eyes darted unseeing over the old bricks in the ceiling. You didn’t need to ask—you knew they were thinking about what this path had in store for them.

“You ok?” you asked tentatively.

They turned at your voice, but their face broke into a small smile, brown eyes taking you in through their long bangs. _“You’re a mess.”_

You lifted a hand up to inspect it. They were right. You were filthy. A layer of ashen soot coated your hand, you could only imagine what your face looked like. And your hair. Smiling now too, you raked your fingers through your hair. Sure enough, a little cloud of dust shook out. They gave a little laugh, then quietly pulled their knees up under their chin. When they turned back to you again, their expression was quite different.

 _“This is it, then?”_ they said quietly with a frown, tugging on the cuffs of their sleeves afterwards. You understood, their stomach was in a knot.

You wanted to lie, tell them everything was going to be ok, but you couldn’t do that to them.

“Yeah, this is it,” you muttered. “We better get going.”

Both of you were quiet after that, the door looming over you as gathered your wits. Shit, maybe this was a terrible idea. Your mind also pointed out unhelpfully that the time for second guessing yourself was long gone.

For a fleeting moment, against all odds, you wished Toriel had changed her mind about coming with you.

You found the doors did put up a fight, but the remainder of your resolve pumping through you managed to make the large foe yield to your tiny might. The doors remained open as you stood there, in between the Ruins and what laid beyond. The room was remarkably dark, the threat of the coming journey feeling that much greater against the already grand piles of doubt clinging to you like wires, yanking you down on invisible strings and pulling you back towards the entrance of the basement. The light outline of the steps going downwards did little to ease your anxiety.

The doors slowly creaked close behind you, the last of the illumination from the Ruins fading behind the door until nothing but a tiny sliver of light coming from the bottom remained, barely managing to highlight the first step. You took Frisk’s hand in yours and drew in a deep breath.

Down the steps, you squinted and feebly attempted to will your sight to pierce through the darkness. Maybe then you wouldn’t fall and break something. Your focus sharpened more on the steps and less on the darkness behind you that threatened to swallow you whole. The warmth of the smaller hand clutching yours was the only solace down the seemingly endless steps.

As you walked, you noticed a light but sharp pang in your leg whenever you put too much pressure on it. Like each time someone was taking a needle and pricking the stretching, groaning muscles of your calf. Toriel had healed you, but you remembered the monster saying healing magic was along the lines of a temporary fix. Sleeping, allowing your soul to rest and recuperate, was the only way to truly heal from magical damage. In that case, perhaps the magic served as an placebo illusion to make you feel better, or perhaps something that just dulled the nerves in your body.

You quietly frowned at yourself for not dodging the fireballs better. You needed to get better at that or you would never make it past anything out there. It was only a bruise on your leg now but it could be the difference between life or death out there.

You wondered if you could run away from all the monsters. Just run and hide from all opposition. Avoid the monsters all together.

_Be the most unremarkable, unnoticeable person to ever traverse through the Underground._

You also had your knife. A real one this time around. Even if you held some reservations about it, you may be able to wave it around and hope they would be threatened off. The thought didn't ease the tension in your shoulders one bit. You couldn't let your guard down. Not now, not ever. Maybe once you reached the surface, but not a second before.

A faint white light faded out of the darkness, growing ever brighter as you approached. You reached the end at the bottom, the room before you little more than a thin patch of grass sprouting through cracks in the ground, the light beaming down highlighting the dust floating in the air. The smell of mildew was overpowering.

Frisk hesitated, coming to a stop. There’s nothing except the grass, but they lingered on the patch of green before turning their attention elsewhere. Face scrunched a little, their eyes flickered about the room almost feverishly.

“Frisk?”

They didn’t answer, despite how your words echoed off the walls. Their mouth was twisted into something not quite a frown. But it still troubled you—a sort of detached wistfulness and absent-minded confusion. The kind of look someone might wear when they were watching an old movie, not really remembering the finer details but just kind of… letting the distant familiarity wash over them. It was alien.

You gave their hand a consoling squeeze. They turned to you after a few seconds. It took twice as long for the expression to fade from their face, and then they blinked up at you, their face blank before they smiled. It made you feel a bit better. Maybe it was just your paranoia exaggerating things, making you see stuff that wasn’t there.

You let go of Frisk’s hand and rested a palm on the front of the door at the other end of the room. There weren’t any locks in sight but just touching it sent shivers down your spine. It was freezing. You pushed at the worn granite, grunting as your shoes skidded against the ground. Something seemed to be pushing against the door, or holding it shut on the other side. You huffed and pushed again with all your might.

For several seconds you shoved, but the door remained closed. The fear that you were going to be stopped here rose in your throat, threatening to make you short of breath. But it was accompanied by curiosity. The thin crack formed from opening the doors allowed light to slant inside. It’s so bright as opposed to the dimness of the Ruins. If it wasn’t for the fact you knew you descended deeper into the mountain, after falling so far down into it in the first place, you might have confused it for sunlight.

You glanced down, noting the trickle of white slowly seeping from the crack. It melted into slush once it crept far enough past the Ruins door... was there snow blocking the door?

Well... Flowey did recommend you dress warm. You debated on squeezing another shirt between your sweater and robe, but it would be more likely you could get hit by monsters from the extra bulk.

You took several steps back, giving the door one final look over, then ran. You barreled into the door, the crack widening ever so slightly. You winced, rubbing your aching shoulder, then took another couple of steps back. You repeatedly slammed into the door several times before the opening finally got wide enough to wiggle through. You moved back to give Frisk the room to do just that, seemingly swallowed up by the endless void.

That little voice of reason screamed at you to turn back but you took a step forward, then another. Before you knew it tugged yourself through the door and disappeared into the blinding, white light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone had a spoopy and safe Halloween. But oh god yes this chap is complete. We're out of the Ruins.
> 
> I noticed people like to gloss over this fight more or less. Or let Frisk handle it, and I'm just like?? It doesn't usually take away from the story but sometimes I think 'at least try to help that determined little kid'. So Reader did here.


	9. Home Slice

_“The lonely one offers his hand too quickly to whomever he encounters._ ”  
―  Friedrich Nietzsche

* * *

A chilling gust of wind slapped you in the face and forced your eyes shut, your hair blowing back in the flurry. All you could hear was rustling, creaking branches and your thumping heartbeat.

The wind soon died down to a standstill, the sound along with it. You slowly opened your eyelids, eyes so acclimated to the dim purple lighting of the Ruins that it almost burned to look at the sheer amount of white. You were almost sure you stepped into the wrong place. You squinted at the display before you, blinking until your sight slowly adjusted and the light faded.

It turned out the world wasn't bleached free of color. It only looked as much as a forest unlike any other stretched on and on before you, robbed of any trace of greenery. Shadows seeped into the bark itself dyeing them an ominous dark brown. Snow clung to every single inch of the hard earth, making it soft and moist.

More importantly, a foot of that snow rested at your feet. Hand on the partly open door, you kicked a bit of it out of your way. Winter chill bleed through your sneakers and pants, your injuries crying out at the change in temperature.

Contrary to popular belief, most snow was not as soft as movies likened it to be. As soon as it had sufficient time to gather and sit, it evolved from enjoyed pastime to the ultimate devilish bane of one's existence. This snow hadn’t reached that final stage yet, stubbornly retaining some of that magical fluffiness, but it was only a matter of time.

The silence of the pine forest was shattered by a loud screech behind you. You spun in time to catch the violet door etched with the familiar symbol marking Toriel's robes sliding shut. A soft click rang hollow from the inside and echoed.

You winced.

Interestingly, a set of spiralling pillars similar to the ones greeting your entrance to the rest of the Ruins lay abandoned in crumbling disarray on either side of you, cracked stones discarded at its base. The wall that the pillars and door sat on seemed go on well past every direction you dared to look. You weren’t surprised it shared the same soft purple stone present throughout the aptly named Ruins, aging cracks stretched across the wall.

The idea that monsters had been trapped for ages underneath this mountain struck you once more.

You breathed, rubbing your head as you took a look at the forest around you. Trees sparse of life stood tall and so tightly packed together, you’d be amazed if you could slip through. Their eerie creaking sounds rose just above the threshold of your hearing as they lurched in the brief gusts of wind.

It was so… empty and dead.

The forest and the door weren’t the only sight to behold. Past the few trees to your right, the scarred earth abruptly jutted out as a large cliff with a depressed posture, teasing the edges of the long, jagged teeth of stone in the fissure.

Thankfully an open pathway on the edge of the cliff hugged the frame of the forest, seemingly from fear of the massive canyon. This path had certainly seen better days. Small cracks rose up here and there to reveal old wear and tear from constant abuse of being tread on and then suddenly abandoned in the blink of an eye.

It most likely wasn’t safe to walk out to be seen by any monster that happened to glance over to your location, but the only direction was to go forward from here.

At least, it wasn’t all that cold, not compared to what you felt before in the past. One might even compare it to a calm November day: the wind itself beating the heat out of you now and then while everything else was moderate at best. Good thing you followed Flowey’s advice. This way you and Frisk wouldn’t freeze to death immediately. Still you hoped the entirety of the Underground wasn’t like this.

You shifted uneasily. “…Frisk?”

No reply.

God, not again. The last time this happened, a few hours ago _tops_ , they wound up engaged in a fight with their protective goat-mom friend.

You stole a few hesitant steps forward and looked around. They couldn’t have gotten that far in such a short amount of time. “Okay kid, very funny but I don’t think now’s a great time for a round of hide and seek.”

The snow to your left was oddly disturbed from the mostly flat plane of white, upturned as though privy to a curious being’s footsteps. The perfect place for the little bugger to hide. As you moved to inspect the tampered spot, you thought you saw a glimmer hidden behind the leaves of the lone snow covered bush. You pulled them aside and stared.

There was a camera hidden in the bush.

What even. Slowly you backed away. A familiar bubble of horror rooted in your stomach but you nervously whirled back to the path, fully intent on marching on to find your sibling. You vehemently shook away the invasive thoughts of what that meant. Could mean. The camera might be turned off or dead.

You failed to draw your eyes from the glinting camera. It’s okay. You’re still cool. Everything was fine. A-okay. Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious even. You had nothing to worry about yet. Better yet, it probably wasn’t really there. You’re still reeling from the emotional backlash of leaving Toriel behind and it’s doing weird things to your head. That must be it. What kind of person would stick a spy cam out in the middle of what seemed to be nowhere in some bushes? Yeah, it sounded a bit ridiculous when phrased that way. There were no cameras, conspiratorial anxieties and fears. Get out of here.

Just as you hopefully wrote it off as an insane hallucination your mind conjured up, the fitted lens did that Hollywood thing you’d come to associate with all cameras as the ‘zoom and enhance’ function.

…It hadn’t even been _two minutes_ and you’d already been found out?!

Hand enclosed, albeit a bit numb from cold, around the hastily scooped up snow, you tightly packed the frosted flakes over the lens with a little more force than necessary. You brushed off the already melting snow from your hands and tucked it into your pockets. When nothing else happened, you immediately traced the faint press of shoeprints in the snow down the pathway.

You’d find Frisk, lay low, then get the hell out of dodge.

Advancing cautiously forward through a sea of crystalline white, your footsteps crunched in the snow. Whereas the emanating walls and floors of the Ruins lit the way for traversal, there seemed to be none of that here.

The air, although crisp, still retained the scent of old pine and stale stone. Little pine needles were scattered across the edge of the pathway, showing that the trees were still very much alive and kicking. You followed the trunks with your eyes, surprised when an earthen ceiling didn’t slide into view.

There didn’t appear to be a ceiling—well, of course you  _knew_ , logically, that there was the mountain above you, but the walls faded out of view until about you guessed a few hundred feet, at which point there was nothing visible but white. The sky was full of pregnant clouds and tempest winds. Some bellies were darker than others, some were wider and fuller, but all were wide and swallowing. Whatever color that should have been beyond them, you saw no trace of it.

Huh, if you didn’t read so much you would have found all this too be very improbable. The clouds and snow underground would have twisted your mind into a pretzel trying to work out the environmental mechanics behind that. Really it was fascinating. Though, the longer you stared up, the more you felt you could just fall into the sky–

End that thought right there.

You blinked away the gray teasing the edges of your vision. What were you thinking about again? Oh, right.

It was almost like the Ruins, except the glow of the walls faded out much sooner into never ending darkness. It was like… how could you put this? It was as though the world just stopped in those corridors, like nothing up there existed at all. Out here, everything was no longer reduced to just that space.

Compared to the enclosed nature of the Ruins, the world suddenly seemed so…big. As though you had exited the dark ages and stepped into some winter wonderland out of a fantasy.

This was the Underground.

You felt… exposed.

And more pressure on your limbs, probably thanks to descending a little farther into the earth, but mostly exposed.

Beneath the surface of composure, trepidation settled in the depths of your stomach. You glanced back at the door, half expecting Toriel’s figure to be standing there and chiding you for attempting something dangerous. But nothing had changed, except that the exit had grown smaller as you treaded further down the path into the forest. You turned back around and spotted something ahead.

Skittering over the fallen branch strewn across the pathway, a small figure plopped into the snow on the other. They leaned over and brushed off their knees, before looking around.

Was that…?

A loud crack that tore through the air drowned out the first syllables of their name from your mouth. Eyes on that stripped shirt, your heart flew up into your throat as you were allowed full view of the second the brief but violent _detonation_ that sent hefty splinters of bark flying.

The branch that so easily held Frisk’s body weight a moment ago–the tough, weathered looking one bigger than your leg and probably weighed more than you–had snapped in pieces as if though it’d been just a simple twig.

Oh god.

Icy wisps of carbon dioxide escaped you as something cold punched air from your lungs. Your footsteps crunched atop crystalline formations, breath trailing behind you as the billowing puffs sifted to the ground. You stopped in front of the branch.

It had seemingly caved in. Given out under a heavy pressure. it was all but impossible to miss.

The air became that little bit more difficult to breathe.

You weren't given the time for any other emotions to start swirling in your head. The soft sound of footsteps failed to capture your attention, at least not right away. By then, a hand was already pulling at your sleeve. You pivoted, ready to fight, only to see Frisk. They appeared a touch calmer, far more so than your wide eyes and trembling fingers.

Your eyes darted around, scanning the path and trees for anyone else. Your hand itched for the comforting weight of the knife to protect yourself. But from what? You were alone. There was nothing. No noise. Even the breeze decided now was the time to be completely still. There was nothing out here except you, Frisk and whatever broke the branch.

Nervous anxiety returned in full force and you barely kept a lid on it _. You can't freak out now. Do that and you'll be easy pickings. Stay calm._

You swallowed thickly, forcefully relaxing yourself.

“We need- we need to move,” you spoke aloud, moving to take Frisk's small hand in yours.

The thing messing with you was out there, but that wasn't the point. You were the adult. You were supposed to provide safety for Frisk. That thought was all you had to cling to and stop the waves of terror from dragging you under.

You needed to keep moving.

Frisk nodded slowly. Whatever protests they may have had, they didn’t voice. Perhaps from seeing how spooked you were. Good. You didn’t lay into them for wandering off in a strange, unknown place. Now wasn’t the time to scold them.

You started down the pathway, still fearful of slipping and then falling over the canyon to your untimely demise. Your other hand casually slid into your pocket as your eyes peered into the trees. The hairs on the back of your neck rose.

Movement to the left.

You jerked, reflexively squeezing your fingers against the hilt of your knife. You glanced back over your shoulder, looking the forest once over.

It was so utterly silent. At least in the Ruins there might have been a small trickle of water or the sound of things moving around, some semblance of life, but there was nothing out here. The pounding of your heartbeat echoed in your ears and the blood rushing in your body to keep you warm was painfully obvious to your mind.

Movement. Movement. Something in the shadows. It was watching you. Or were your ears playing tricks on you and it was just the scratching tree branches overhead?

Frisk was the pinnacle of calmness, seeming as though they were on a simple stroll to the store. They hummed under their breath in a quiet tone, you realized, to fill the tension in the air that was becoming more and more unbearable as time went on.

On the other hand, you were all too keenly aware of said tension, although paranoia had made the sensation familiar so you gritted your teeth and clenched your fist, clinging to thoughts of the plan and your desire to live.

Up ahead the canyon had carved out another sizable chunk of the earth, a gaping hole left in its wake. The hole itself was much too far to jump, but probably small enough for Toriel to make the leap with no trouble at all. A skinny bridge you would call mediocre at best stretched across it. You and Frisk could manage the trip across without resort to crafty gymnast techniques but that was but a cold comfort at best too. The fact it lacked any ropes or rails to prevent you from pitching you over the edge to your possible death _again_ , dunked your soul in a vat of chilled water and dragged it through a bed of nails.

An... odd wooden structure was built over the top. You vaguely wondered if the true purpose of it was to function as a gate or heralded a checkpoint, but that idea flew out the window. Even from this distance you could tell the set of four thick bars were much too big and far apart. Who would build a gate of that size? If the intent was to prevent trespassers, then it utterly failed in its purpose.

Still, the sight somewhat soothed your nerves. It meant you were progressing. You were almost done with this patch of the woods. One step closer to the surface.

So, of course, there was a crunch right then.

Your hair stood on end, almost levitating from your body. Hand slipping from Frisk’s, you turned your head...Nothing. Frisk turned all the way around with you, their gaze searching through the snow.

_Something's there._

Of course there was. Did the broken branch and constant shadows not give enough of a hint?

A similar sound disturbed the snow ahead, louder than before. You whirled around again, standing still, eyes glossing over the makeshift bridge. Something inside you squirmed. Nothing. You couldn’t even see telltale footsteps, though you’re unsure if that was due to being too far away from them.

Curses got stuck behind the lump in your throat. This felt like something straight out of a horror flick and…well, jump scares were never your strong suit.

Pulse quickening, you grabbed Frisk’s hand. They looked hesitant—not necessarily afraid, but definitely worried, and a little bit spooked.

The burst of adrenaline that was a product of the fear still clinging to you pushed you forwards before your mind could catch up to what you were doing and remind you how, whilst seeming logical when you thought it up, this was actually an awful, terribly dangerous idea. The two of you moved slowly at first, then speed walking, jogging.

The air seemed to chill as the soft crunching of footsteps grew ever closer. Another glance back revealed little more than empty air. The snow behind you was impossible to distinguish between the set belonging to you and Frisk, and the one of whoever was there. The person was taking their time with you, knowing that with every passing second the terror grew that bit more unbearable and you two, the humans, would be more likely to mess up.

Your heart felt like it was going to explode. It shook in violent spasms, hammering away in your tightening chest. You were somewhat surprised your ribs didn’t crack under the constant assault.

When you turned around again there was no subtlety in the approach this time. The person following practically made no effort to conceal their heavy footfalls in a way that would probably seem clumsy and stupid if it weren't for the fact it was them doing it. And, because it was them, the sudden rush of terror and intimidation felt less pathetic, more perfectly warranted.

You’re beyond scared. You’re angry. On the inside you felt like you were coming apart at the seams. Furious fear itself clung to you like a second skin, worming its way through your pores and poisoning your blood. Your legs seemed to suddenly have the consistency of jello. However, your almost incessant need to remain calm limited you to expressing it in stilted breaths and shaking hands.

Blinking, all your breath left you. Swear words blasted through your head at the realization you stood close to the edge of the bridge, closer than you would've ever hoped to have the imminent confrontation be. Your body couldn’t seem to decide on fight or flight, settling on locking you into place and refusing any commands from your mind. Everything inside you protested at being anywhere near the damned thing. It was a death trap if you entertained the thought of running across it and you had no doubt that this person knew that.

They purposefully ambushed you here.

**“H u m a n s.”**

Ladies and gentlemen, that was the famous sound of a heart stopping.

Shoulders trembling, you clamped your jaw shut as you suppressed a noise in your chest that certainly didn't sound anything like a human.

**“Don't you know how to greet a new pal?”**

Each word was slowly articulated in a deep, quiet voice, a faint echo layering them. Low, nigh demonic in their delivery. You almost didn't hear it. You wished you hadn’t.

Despite wanting to face the threat, your eyes were locked on the edges of the hole descending into the unknown. Pitch black.

_Calm. Calm. Calm._

**“Turn around and shake my hand.”**

Neither of you responded immediately. A moment passed before Frisk ignored your panicked, warning glance and turned slowly, arms unfurled from their body. In your peripherals the figure, not much taller than them comparatively, was shrouded in shadow. The edges of wide, toothy grin could be made out on the downturned face. With a hesitant hand Frisk reached out to follow the command.

Why.

Why did they listen.

You expected their hand to suddenly be enveloped in flames... Or maybe a shove from behind to pitch you into the hole. This journey was over before it even began.

Clearly Toriel was in the right. Maybe you were better off in the Ruins since you hadn’t spent enough time anticipating or internally agonizing at your sibling’s _top quality_ decision making and your own for that matter _-_

You nearly jumped out of your skin and into the hole at the sound that broke the silence. That wasn't fire you expected. Didn't sound anything like fire. Or victorious crows or magical bullets or a body hitting the ground. No, what you didn't expect was a big, wet, farting noise. 

What the **_fuck._**

Clutching your bandaged arm, you snapped back around to stare in complete and utter disbelief. But a moment was all you needed to drink in the scene.

“heheh... the old whoopee cushion in the hand trick. it’s _always_ funny.”

Frisk retracted their hand and a grinning skeleton did the same. A skeleton that stuffed the small red cushion and their hands into the pockets of the oversized blue hoodie. The one that hung unkempt over their somewhat stained white t-shirt, and the top of their black basketball shorts with twin white stripes on the sides. A skeleton boasting mismatched white socks and ratty pink slippers that looked older than Frisk.

But a skeleton nonetheless.

**_SKELETON!_ **

A weird looking one at that. You never claimed to be an expert on human anatomy, but you got the distinct feeling that the bones in the face weren’t supposed to be so rounded. Then again, people shouldn’t be able to survive falling into cracks in the earth, either, and if they did, they weren’t supposed to encounter the undead when it happened.

“anyways, you're a human, right? that's hilarious.” The skeleton's voice was particularly monotone and low key, something that might have even been called jaded if not for the light sprinkle of humor in their... eyes? They seemed relaxed, at perfect ease, for someone who was just stalking you and nearly sent you into an early grave from fear alone. “ 'spose i should go 'head and say hi… ‘hi.’”

The skeleton’s attention was captivated by Frisk’s presence thus far, but you didn’t miss the way their gaze briefly darted over to your pallid stature. Their smile looked too wide, wider still as they drew a soft laugh out of Frisk. Unnerving. Nostalgic. Utterly alien.

  _Don’t trust him._ Something deep in you screamed with such certainty you were almost visibly taken aback, missing the next few sentences. That…what? _For the love of god, don’t trust him. don’t trust him. don’t trust him don’t trust him don’t trust him don’t trust-_

“-supposed to be on watch for humans right now, but... y'know... i don't really care about capturing anybody.”

Frisk's shoulders sagged with relief. Friendly as they were right now, the idea of fighting something might already be dead was probably as horrifying to them as it was to you. Could you even hurt something that was dead? Was a monster skeleton considered dead, being made of magic?

“now my brother, papyrus... he's a human hunting _fanatic_. real dedicated to capturin’ one of your kind. hey, i think now’s about the time he comes to check in on me.” They shrugged their bony shoulders, looking past Frisk. “actually, that’s him way over there.”

Great. What theatrical timing. Frisk paused, their mouth opening slightly as they followed his gaze. You?

You almost laughed.

The universe couldn’t be anymore literal than sending the actual grim reapers to collect your souls.

“hey, here’s an idea. how about you and your pal go through this gate thingy.” Frisk glanced up at the odd gate overlooking the bridge. “yeah, go right through, my bro made the bars too wide. the piece a work’s not gonna to stop a thing.”

Frisk hesitated, looking at the bridge, back to the skeleton, then you. _Should we?_

It wasn’t difficult to pick up on the strained tension leaking out of you. More than once the instinctive thought to run had blared across your mind. To get as far away from him as you could. But you couldn’t run now. Either way, trapped nowhere to go, lead to a skeleton that could probably draw you into an encounter faster than you could get a word out.

Or maybe you had it all wrong. Your mind was most likely working against you in conjunction with your fear and this was quickly winding up to be another Toriel situation.

None of the monsters in the Ruins had actively sought to end yours or Frisk’s life. Though you didn’t talk all that much to them the majority were rather friendly and approachable after you overcame your reservations. It could be the same out here if you let it.

Your shoulders stiffly eased from their perpetually tensed state as though they were carved from wood. The rapid pace of your heart slowly declined as you forced your breathing from the shallow, erratic intakes of air.

Just calm down. Yeah, the guy almost gave you a heart attack with you guessed up until now had been a _real_ _shitty_ prank and honestly screw him for that but…for all you knew, him and his brother could secretly be the coolest dudes on the planet and would let you go right through. He did say he didn’t want to bother with capturing humans. That deserved a little benefit of the doubt. All you had to do was…let go of your fear. Or at least box it up out of the way.

The skeleton winked(?!), “well, what's the hold up? there's nothing to be afraid of. it's just a dark cavern filled with skeletons and horrible monsters.”

Scratch that.

Scratch all of that.

He could just as easily be a demon.

The baleful disdain that twisted your features must have been a sight to behold. The apathy on his face momentarily fell flat with question, then a fraction of a second later he actually looked apologetic and sheepish, static grin never changing.

Even Frisk shifted uncomfortably.

After a moment, the skeleton softly huffed, “you won’t have to worry about a thing with my bro. he’s the greatest guy around town. ‘sides, he's not dangerous. even if he tries to be.” He shrugged, his eye sockets shutting–somehow. “kept my eye socket on you so far, so i might as well keep it up, right? what d’ya say?”

You exhaled shakily again, grip tightening on the knife carefully so that it could be pulled out at a moment's notice. Calm. you needed to stay calm. Acting irrationally now was the worst thing you could possibly do in this situation.

You looked to the bridge. Beyond it a bit of a distance away, there was... a much taller and skinnier skeleton wearing absurd clothes you could only describe as makeshift armor and a red scarf stomping over from a simple pathway that seemed much more safe then this one…

There really wasn’t a choice, was there?

_-him don’t trust him don’t trust him don’t-_

You nodded at Frisk by the barest amount. They leveled a long look at you. Fiddling with their sleeves, they finally took a step onto the bridge, looked over the side, then quickly scurried across. You followed shortly after. The bridge was oddly solid under your feet. Against your better judgement, you made the unfortunate mistake of glancing over the edge too.

The spikes down there gleamed at you with encouragement to fall, threatening to gut you like a fish if you even dared to linger too long.

Memories of your descent into the Underground began to return with larger force and it became more of a struggle to battle the overwhelming, _irrational_ urge to break down. You were going to fall. Beating darkness. Phantasmal sensations of pins and warmth caressed your skin. You were going to fall. It was futile to fight as the void swallowed you up.

You were going to fall.

You felt something with bones for hands suddenly lift you up under the pits of your arms. The world almost seemed to go dark for a moment. Instinctively, your legs curled up closer to your chest and strained whine caught in your throat as you felt the bony ridges of his phalanges under his gloves tighten to a moderately firm grip. This five foot skeleton walked casually across the pit of death, carrying you _and_ your bag as if it was nothing.

“quick, behind the conveniently shaped lamp up ahead.” You assumed he was addressing Frisk. The skeleton then let out a big sigh... did magic skeletons breathe? “gotta say. here i thought that gate wasn’t gonna stop anyone.”

Before you could attempt to wrench out of his grasp or choke from the oncoming tide of embarrassment, he dropped you into the snow along the path unceremoniously. You fell with an oomph, landing face first into a conveniently placed you-sized pile of white fluff. Only your eyes and nose peeked out of the snow mound.

And not moment too soon it seemed.

“NOT GOING TO STOP WHO, SANS?”

From this angle, you could just make out a glimpse of the new arrival. The needlessly loud, higher pitched voice bellowed out of the much taller skeleton, like if he was using all caps in real life. There were undertones of something much lighter than what you heard from the skeleton–Sans, perhaps innocence or inexperience?

Right in front of you, your new position also gifted you with the perfect sight of... a big, conveniently shaped lamp exactly Frisk’s size a few feet away from the pathway. You had no idea how a lamp in the exact shape of their body and hair even existed–but it did–and for some reason it was conveniently placed there. Frisk contoured their body and attempted to become one with the lamp. Though they had almost knocked it over at the new voice needing to grab onto it before it fell and fixed it. They placed a hand on their chest, attempting to quell their heartbeat as they breathed out.

You blinked, still engrossed in your shock.

This was madness.

“don't feel bad, bro. it might stop any two. 'sup?” Sans lazily hummed.

“YOU KNOW WHAT ‘SUP,’ BROTHER! IT’S BEEN NEARLY TWO WEEKS _. TWO WEEKS._ AND YOU HAVEN’T BOTHERED TO RECALIBRATE YOUR PUZZLES!” His voice knocked around in your head, leaving you to wonder if it was so loud it was actually echoing inside your skull.

“oh. sorry bro. thought i was forgetting something.”

Soon the chill of the snow finding it’s way under your warm defenses snapped you out of it. Great. Snow in clothes would then melt and freeze you to death.

“DON'T 'SORRY BRO' ME!” Frisk decided to abandon fusing with the lamp and instead clamped their hands over their ears. “YOU’RE JUST HANGING OUTSIDE YOUR STATION, SLACKING OFF FROM WORK! WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING BY THAT MALFORMED SNOW POFF?!”

“staring at it. it’s really cool. but that lamp is pretty delightful too. do you wanna look?”

You felt your soul simply eject from its mortal shell and ascend. Was he  _serious?_

“WHAT? NO! I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THAT!”

“you sure? snow poffs like this one are perfect for chilling off. snow joke.” You made an audible sound of frustration at this.  _Sans. Why?_

“A HUMAN COULD COME THROUGH HERE ANY DAY NOW, I’M CERTAIN OF IT! I WANT TO BE IN TIP TOP FORM TO CAPTURE A HUMAN! I WILL BE THE ONE! I MUST BE _THE ONE!_ THAT WAY PEOPLE WILL LOVE AND RESPECT ME. MORE THAN THEY DO ALREADY!”

He went on and on. Although you couldn't see Sans from, you imagined him rolling his eyes. But you didn't know Sans at all to be sure.

“THEN, I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS WILL FULFILL MY DESTINY AND BE BESTOWED WITH EVERYTHING I UTTERLY DESERVE! LIKE A HEDGE CARVED IN THE SHAPE OF MY HEAD, RECOGNITION, PEOPLE WILL ASK TO BE MY FRIEND! OH, CAN'T YOU SEE IT BROTHER? I WILL BATHE IN A SHOWER OF KISSES EVERY MORNING!”

“hmm... maybe this lamp will help you? i hear you can’t take their bright ideas lightly.”

This…this… punning _potato_. He got a kick out of this, didn’t he? He thought it was funny, some kind of private _joke_ to toy with Frisk and you like this after almost making you break down into tears out of fear. Well you weren’t laughing. Forget what you said earlier about demons. Sans was Satan incarnate.

“SANS! YOU ARE NOT HELPING, YOU LAZYBONES!” Papyrus cried out. A foot stomped the ground with a loud crunch of snow. “ALL YOU DO IS SIT AROUND AND BOONDOGGLE! YOU’RE GROWING SO LAZY, YOU’D LET A HUMAN WALK RIGHT PAST YOU!”

“hey, take it easy. i've gotten a ton of work done today.” You could hear him wink. “a skele-ton.” The quick three beat play of a percussion rang through the air.

What… where the  _heck_ did that rimshot just  _freaking come from_.

Frisk snorted out a surprised laugh at the sudden humor, covering their grin with neck fabric. So it wasn’t just you. Clearly collective logic took a vacation today.

“SANS!”

“c’mon. you're smiling.”

“I KNOW AND I HATE IT!” Papyrus complained without restraint. He let out a sigh...or he said the word ‘SIGH’ in his normal volume. “WHY DOES SOMEONE AS GREAT AS ME... HAVE TO WORK SO HARD TO GET RECOGNITION?”

“sounds like you're really working yourself...”

Down to the bone.

“down to the bone.” Another rimshot. End your suffering.

Normally you’d laugh at the absurdity as much as Frisk, but being hopped up on a cocktail of fear, anger and anxiety did wonders to kill any funny bone present in you.

“UGH! I WILL ATTEND TO MY PUZZLES. AS FOR YOUR WORK... PUT A LITTLE MORE... 'BACKBONE' INTO IT! NYEHEHEHEHEHEH!!” You guessed it was a... laugh? It was strange. But what part of monsters wasn't strange?

You sighed softly as Papyrus walked off, suddenly turned around, gave another loud, hearty laugh, then marched off as if he was in the army.

“ok, you can come out now.”

Not bothering to dust off the flakes powdering your hair white, you dug yourself out of your snowbank. Your hands returned to the confines of your robes, one curling around the knife again. Frisk took a step away from the lamp, beaming. Sans got the gist of the look.

“don't mention it kid.” His bones somehow pushing together as if the top of his eye sockets were eyebrows. He almost looked conflicted about something, but you were more distracted by the fact his bone folded and creased. You internally complained about the logic you should have long discarded by now. “alright you two, you ought to get going. he may come back, and if he does... you'll have to sit through some of my hilarious jokes.”

Frisk snorted and nodded, wandering off to inspect the checkpoint station sitting in the corner of the little area like a neat and tidy little hideaway. You thought you smelt the faint scent of condiments 

Which left you two.

Seemingly coming to some internal decision, the skeleton finally turned to you with a repressed expression you couldn't quite put your finger on. 

Facing each other, it was like the collide of polar opposites. Small white dots… lights shone within the recesses of those uncannily hollowed sockets (dark as the chasm so easy to trip into look away before you fall into them too). You reflexively flinched as he made to draw his hand out of his pocket. He paused, then he offered his hand out to you, slower this time. Almost as though he didn’t wasn’t to startle you or making you more uncomfortable than he already had.

You’re incredulous. Still pissed, but mostly incredulous.

“hey kid.” The words cut through your daze, forcing you to focus your burning eyes back on him and shove the growing thoughts of fury down violently. You shivered as you felt wind suddenly blow through the skeleton and hit you like he wasn’t even there. “you alive?”

Half of you wanted to leave him hanging. Never had you wanted to be so bitter and petty more than in that moment. To retort with scathing words, to throw all your rage at someone just so you could get everything out of your head where your own thoughts had become painfully loud.

It was the presence of Frisk that ultimately stopped you, forcing your grip on your knife to gradually loosen.

_You couldn't afford to be stupid here. Make the right choices._

_No one was going to save you if you didn't._

For a split second, you scrunched your eyes up tight. Then, slowly, you drew the hand out of your pocket. Years of ingrained manners thoughtlessly compelled it to clasp his. Your chilled skin made note of the fabric-covered phalanges.

As the environment continued its attempts of enforcing thermal equilibrium, you retracted the limb to resume the previous task of retaining body heat or at least slow the rapid loss of it. Your now snow clogged attire hardly helped matters.

“I’m _not_ fine.” Your voice came out slightly scratchy, almost cutting in its rasp but you pretended it hadn't, raising your chin to look him in the eyes. _“Will that be all?”_

The way he flinched ever so slightly made it almost worth it.

Another brief moment of silence welled up between you. You kept one eye on Frisk, content to channel the swarm of negative emotions on passive aggressively burning a hole through the skeleton’s fluffy jacket with your sight alone. He spent it studying you.

As though he was trying to puzzle something out but couldn’t quite reach for answer.

“…actually. hate to bother ya over this, but i uh, about before. probably wasn’t the most sans-ational meeting we could’ve had,” Your deadpan only further hammered home the _“really?”_ part written all over your face. He wasn’t deterred in the slightest. “but i wasn’t expecting…humans today.”

You narrowed your eyes. “So what _did_ you expect? Or do you always pull that stunt on passersby, scaring them to death for shits and giggles?”

“nah, just humans.” he said, vaguely amused. “part of the job description. sorry.”

Like hell he was. Disingenuous apology not accepted.

You sighed, “Just tell me what you want from us so that we can be on our way.”

The skeleton rolled his shoulders back, scratching his mandible as his eyes flicked between you and Frisk. “i was thinking, my brother has been kind of down lately. he's never seen a human before and seeing you both might just make his day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins.
> 
> (edit: also updated the summary. i feel it better... reflects things in this fic)


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